


The Laura Project: Gabriela's story

by StateoftheartWorld



Category: Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Baby Mutants, Claws, Comic, Eden - Freeform, El Paso, Escape, Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Laura's mother - Freeform, Life before Logan, Logan (2017), Logan (2017) Spoilers, Mexico City, Multi, Mutant Children, Mutation, Other, Prequel, Road Trips, Transigen - Freeform, pre-sequel, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StateoftheartWorld/pseuds/StateoftheartWorld
Summary: What was life like inside Transigen? What did Laura have to go through before meeting Logan? What horrors did she witness inside that place? How did she manage to escape?  A prequel to Logan (2017) from nurse Gabriela's POV, the brave woman who stood up to Transigen, risking her own life in order to save a little girl and take her to her father.
Relationships: Laura & Logan, Laura Kinney & Logan, nurse gabriela/laura
Kudos: 23





	1. The Underground Lab

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Logan or The X-Men

****"Cry baby cry**   
**Make your mother sigh**   
**She's old enough to know better.**   
**So cry baby cry..."**

Laura was only 13 months old when I began to work for Transigen. I got hired because one of their nurses had quit without notice and they needed a replacement - _or so they said_. It took me a week to realize that joining Transigen was like joining a drug cartel or a cult like Scientology: once you're in, you can't get out. Not in the literal sense --at least not for the medical staff-- but the constant threats and blackmail prevented any worker from telling the world about the horrors they witnessed inside the grey building located in southern Mexico City.

On the outside, Transigen looked like any of the other hospitals and labs in the area: a big concrete block surrounded by a security fence. The frameless glass entrance doors opened to a brightly lit, ostentatious lobby with white shiny floors, creamy walls, beige leather couches arranged in cozy groups, and a smiley receptionist sitting behind a u-shaped glass desk. The rest of the first floor was a bunch of long, wide corridors, elevators and swing doors which looked all the same. It gave the impression of a perfectly modern facility dedicated to pediatric cancer research. However, this was not the real Transigen, this was just a façade - _the tip of the iceberg_. The real hell was underneath.

The main elevator took dozens of nurses, doctors, guards, and scientists from the ground floor to an underground laboratory every day. This facility was not modern or shiny, it was a sheet of white walls, endless corridors, hermetic doors, and rectangular fluorescent lights spaced evenly along the ceilings. There were no windows. The effect was a harsh, flat light that denied full color or volume to objects and made everything appear to have been cut out of thick paperboard. Inside this warm, moist, and gloomy enclosure there were children spending their days in cage-like rooms. They were not patients, they didn't have cancer. _They were experiments._

To me, this job often felt like that scene from _'The Green Mile',_ where a pedophile tells one of his young victims that he'll kill her sister if she makes a noise. What was that quote? Oh, yes "He used the girls' love for each other".

When you worked for Transigen, there were three things that you eventually came to discover. First, they were not trying to find a cure for cancer; second, they were using the DNA of male mutants to create these children; and third, they were snatching girls from all over Mexico and forcing them to carry mutant babies.

I learnt most of this from a nurse called Valeria almost two years after my arrival. By that time, I had become an expert at getting the four children in my charge ready for the day. Little Laura, a slim, dark-haired toddler with expressive brown eyes was the youngest of the group. When a baby was born in this place, they received a number instead of a name; but since it was much too cruel to deny a child an identity, my fellow nurses and I gave them names.

"You better start potty-training this girl before she starts _the training_ , _amiga_." Valeria was saying as I changed Laura's diaper. The nurse was currently pouring water and juice in all the baby bottles and sippy cups scattered over the table. This kind, bubbly woman was often the only person I could talk to freely during work hours. 

"I know, Vale. I'm working on it, but the girl's too stressed out to do it yet." I replied, sliding a clean diaper under the toddler's bottom. "They've begun the process to induce her mutation, and the side effects are taking their toll on her. I hope they won't send her to the training rooms any time soon, I've seen the coach who trains some of the other kids and he pushes them too hard. I mean, she's only three" I muttered, my tone clearly showing I could not understand why these babies had to be subjected to inhuman and degrading treatment.

Maybe it was my tone or the way I kissed Laura's chubby cheeks after securing the diaper on her waist, but Valeria's face suddenly fell. She shook her head silently, her expression a fifty-fifty mixture of sadness and concern.

" _No es tu bebé, Gabriela_." she cautioned, her gaze falling to Laura, who had begun an abstracted, vague chant which meandered between nursery rhymes and snatches of other songs I sang to her. "I know it's hard, but try not to fall in love with her -or any of these children- for your own sake…and maybe for theirs too." she added hesitantly. "Be kind, give them all the affection they need, but don't get involved." Her eyes slowly focused on my face, and then, as she could read my expression, they filled with wariness.

The biggest issue with parentless children is that they have to look after themselves; even when they're one or two years of age they will still be trying to control their environment because nobody else is there. I wasn't getting involved, I was just trying to give these kids some stability. 

Valeria frowned into space for a long moment, and then suddenly turned to me, coming back from her reverie. "Did I ever tell you what _really_ happened to the other nurse? The one you replaced?" Valeria asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"No" I said through a frown, moving to place the used diaper in a bag.

"Well, she made friends with Laura's biological mother while the poor girl was being held captive here." she mumbled. I stared at her, my eyes stretched wide. I'd never heard anybody mention the children's mothers. "I mean, not friends, but she got to talk to her a few times during the girl's pregnancy. She was sixteen years old and one of the biggest mistakes Transigen ever made." Valeria explained, filling a sippy cup with apple juice, Laura eagerly reaching out for it -- _¡Jugo, jugo!--_ as I tried to guide her little arms into her cotton shirt. She never cooperated in being dressed.

"You see, everyone here thinks that Pierce's Reavers just go out in the streets and kidnap random girls for the experiments; that they're all poor and even some of them volunteer as surrogates. That's not true at all." she smirked at me, before handing the cup to Laura, who immediately took a big gulp of juice. "This is a multimillion-dollar business, they wouldn't leave to chance such things. The mothers are just as carefully chosen as the fathers. These people stalk girls on social media, pick a few that fulfill their standards, and then follow them around for weeks, even months!" she said through a grimace, then gave a disgusted snort. "They have hackers who can access their medical records and personal information. These girls are brought in from all over the country. It's like…like a casting for a film." 

She was now whispering, glancing back at the door. I was getting a bit nervous. At least we were in the waiting room --a room with happy, colorful monsters painted on the walls where the nurses could bring the children and entertain them while waiting for the staff to come and pick them up. Dr. Rice rarely entered here, but still, there was this part of me that was begging me to stop her, telling me that I didn't need to know any of this. But she was right, I had fallen in love with these children, especially with little Laura. She was like the daughter I always prayed for, but never came. I needed to know more about her background. I knew that one day she would ask questions about her origins, and I didn't want anyone to hurt her with cruel answers like " _you're an experiment, and experiments don't have mommies and daddies"_. She had the right to know, and I would tell her when the time came. 

I concentrated for a moment, and then whispered. "Ok, I get that part. But why was Laura's mother a mistake?"

"Because Laura's mother was an upper middle-class girl." she said, leaning forward towards me, quieting her voice slightly. My mouth fell open. Any experienced criminal knew that this kind of girls were untouchable, especially if it was a serious crime like homicide. "High IQ, good at sports, well-educated, but most importantly, with an exceptional medical record and DNA background. In short, Transigen's wildest dream." she breathed "These people would usually pick girls from smaller towns or districts, preferably from poor backgrounds, because let's face it: we live in a society where the poorer you are, the less attention --and justice-- you get. The risk was enormous, but this girl was just too tempting to let go. After all, her genes would be mixed with the DNA of the mutant that mattered the most to them."

 _"Wolverine_ " I whispered under my breath.

"Exactly. So, this girl was abducted while walking home from high school. _How do I know that?_ Because her family and friends made sure she became national news. She was all over the TV, she was on billboards, she was on newspapers, she was in magazines, she was everywhere --everyone was talking about this case, it was HUGE. Like I said, her parents were quite well off, and if a well off family's daughter goes missing people are going to take notice. Her name was Paulina Ontiveros."

" _¿Paulina Ontiveros?_ " I mumbled, tilting my head to one side. "I think I remember that case. They never found her"

The face of that poor teenage girl flashed through my mind: the straight dark hair, the curious brown eyes, the tanned skin, the expressive eyebrows… I frowned and looked down at Laura, who was now sitting on the floor with Gideon, playing with some Legos. She was definitely that teenager's baby.

"Of course they never found her" Valeria said through a shrug as she crouched down to clean Gideon's face with a baby wipe. "Transigen pays insane amounts of money --among other useful things-- for organized crime groups to orchestrate the kidnappings and, later on, get rid of the girls --once their purpose's been fulfilled, obviously." she added, bringing her gaze to me. "They make it seem like a random case of femicide: girl gets kidnaped by a pervert who rapes her, then kills her and destroys the body. Nobody ever gets to Transigen. Tlaxcala's sex traffickers and assasins --they're the ones-- are among the strongest gangs in the world, and they've got Transigen's back." she shook her head in disgust once more, moving to stand. "This company is already doing enough illegal stuff, they don't need to draw unwanted attention by doing the dirty jobs themselves. Even Pierce's _Reavers_ have been trained and advised by these criminal groups in exchange for juicy information about the US's black markets. Part of the deal, I guess" she concluded, throwing the baby wipe into a plastic bag.

"How do you know all this?" I asked, frowning.

A smug smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "I've dated a couple guys from the Department of Epigenetics. They know everything there is to know about this place, they are the brain and heart of this business...and the young assistants are always keen to impress a girl" she added through a wink.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Ok. _Pero no me has dicho qué pasó con la enfermera_ "

" _¡Ah, sí!_ The nurse!" she exclaimed, her smile instantly vanished, and for a moment sadness flashed across her face. "Her name was Mónica and, as I told you, she got to talk to Laura's mom a few times while she was here. Unlike the rest of the girls who cried and begged, and even tried to end the pregnancy by uselessly punching their bellies --I mean, some of them had never even had sex before, and suddenly they were all swollen-- Paulina was quiet, calm, and incredibly observant…but above all, she loved her baby." Valeria smiled.

" _¿Pero ella sabía que este era un bebé mutante?_ " I asked, somewhat confused. 

" _Sí, sí_. She knew that she was carrying a mutant baby girl. She even knew the kind of mutation her baby was going to develop --and _the donor_ , so to speak" A small frowned appeared on her face and she gave me a look. "The staff never worries about keeping their voice down in front of them 'cause most of these girls don't speak English, and the ones that do --like Paulina-- don't live long enough to tell the world what they've heard and seen."

"Ok, I see" I whispered as I helped her hand the bottles and sippy cups to the other toddlers. The older kids were chattering or looking at some books. They were afraid to use their powers in this room, lest they hurt the babies.

"Like all the other girls she tried to escape within the first months, but when her belly became too swollen, she stopped for fear of hurting the fetus. She realized there was no way out, and employed her last days trying to make sure that somebody would look after her child. Nurse Mónica came crying to me once because Paulina had made her promise that she would give the baby a name, even if they insisted on giving her a number." she muttered, and I shook my head, feeling a sudden surge of pity for the teenager. "Clever girl, she read Mónica like a pro and planted a seed of guilt and responsibility in her."

"Laura…" I whispered under my breath. The story had brought a whole new meaning to the word.

"Yes. That was the name she chose. It means _strength_ or something like that --exactly what this baby was going to need" she sighed heavily as she sat on the edge of the table "So Mónica was there during the birth, a high-risk one due to the mother's age. Baby Laura came out but didn't cry, so they took her to another room to reanimate her" Valeria said in a strange new tone. "Paulina panicked, understandably so, and desperately began to ask why her baby wasn't crying..." she trailed off, her voice showed how hard it was for her to tell me this. Even if she appeared detached, Valeria genuinely cared for these kids. "It was then that one of the bystanders ruthlessly said to her, _Because it's dead."_

"What?" I exclaimed.

"Mónica stayed with Paulina, trying to calm the poor girl, but she was screaming like crazy, _¡Mi bebé! ¡Laura! ¡Por favor denme a mi bebé! ¡Déjenme verla! ¡Yo soy su mamá! ¡Yo soy su mamá!_ " Valeria muttered, her voice as heavy as her heart. I stood motionlessly, holding a baby bottle in my hand, waiting for her to continue.

"Mónica was traumatized by the whole experience, including the fact that she never got to tell Paulina that her baby girl had lived. Guilt wouldn't let her be, so the same day Laura's mom was taken away from Transigen she anonymously called the police to give them information, in the hope that the girl could still be rescued." my friend sighed and shook her head once more. "All the staff was aware that the whole country was looking for the girl --they'd seen her on the news-- but nobody dared to alert the authorities. Pierce caught Mónica in the act and... that was it. We never saw her again" 

"And then I arrived" I muttered.

"Exactly, and as you know--" Valeria continued, but her words were cut short by the sound of heavy steps in the corridor.

The door burst open and Transigen's head of security, Donald Pierce --a cruel young man with a robotic hand who acted as if he owned the place-- stormed in with two of his hitmen. The silence was immediate, resentful. It was time for training… _and it was going to be intense._ That's why he was joining the children today. The bastard liked to watch the trainings as though he was a spectator at a dogfight. 

"X23-16, X23-19, X23-20..." he began, reading from a list he'd just pulled from the pocket of the black leather jacket he was always wearing. 

_"Please, don't say Laura's number, don't say her number…"_ I was praying. 

"...and X23-23 follow me" he concluded, already walking through the door.

"No!" The scream came out without my permission. Everyone's eyes spun round in surprise and Pierce stopped in his tracks before turning slowly to face me.

 _"Excuse me?"_ he finally hissed, tilting his head in confusion.

No one moved, and for a moment fear emanated from the walls. I could feel Valeria's shock next to me as if it was a solid entity. 

After one or two heartbeats my still and silent form suddenly returned to life. "I mean… _Señor_ Pierce, please, she's only three." I tried to clarify.

 _El pendejo_ looked down on the tiny girl and smirked. Laura held very still and pressed her lips tightly together --a reaction to stress. I didn't know where she'd picked up that habit. Maybe she thought that nobody would be able to see her if she didn't move. _Bless her_.

"So?" he asked through a shrug of his shoulders, smiling mockingly, crossing his arms.

My tension increased, my hands began to tremble and I clasped them tight. "She could get hurt, please." I muttered. 

His devilish grin widened, the fingers of his robotic hand catching the light. "That's exactly what we're gonna find out, Gabriela, how much she can get hurt." He said the words as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We need to know if that _fucking_ expensive treatment is doing its job." Pierce added, walking towards Laura. "C'mon, honey. You're gonna become a big girl today"

The toddler cringed away, moving to stand. But before she could jump into my arms, he caught her by the waist and picked her up. "Got ya!" he smiled with satisfaction.

Laura whimpered and stretched toward me, her little hands grasping into fists over and over again. She cried, screamed, and kicked, but didn't utter a word. She'd just recently begun to speak - _in Spanish, that was my fault_ \- she could name colors, ask for water and food, and even decribe things she wanted to show me. But every time she was in the presence of Pierce, Dr. Rice, or any of the other members of the staff, her levels of stress became so high that she got quite literally struck dumb.

The other children whose numbers were on the list followed Pierce without putting up a fight while he carried a very angry Laura down the corridor. It was then that he gave a sharp cry, "Fucking brat!" and shoved the girl into the arms of one of his hitmen, before gripping his shoulder in pain. I narrowed my eyes, there was blood dripping from Laura's hands...and feet?

_What had just happened?_

_+++++++_

Three hours later, I found Laura inside her white cell, sitting in her metal crib. As soon as she saw me, she held out her arms and I picked her up. The toddler was beyond exhausted, sweaty, and red-eyed as though she'd been crying for hours. Her clothes were torn and stained with her own blood, and her diaper was heavy. This was child abuse at its finest.

 _'They should have called me as soon as they brought her in so I could change her.'_ I muttered to myself. _'_ _Desgraciados.'_

Her hands were covered in dried blood too. I took off one of her socks, only to discover that her feet were just as bloodstained.

"Laura, what happened?" I asked, patting and soothing her.

I always called her by her name. Always. Every single time. She needed to learn that she was a person, someone worthy of love and all the good things the world had to offer.

"Laura, tell me." I begged, pulling her closer to me. She was hot in my arms, maybe too hot. I pressed my lips to her forehead --yes, she had a fever.

" _Mi amor, dime qué pasó_ " I pressed.

She lifted her head and rubbed her eyes roughly, before putting her little finger on her forehead. It was then that I noticed a tiny scar which hadn't been there before. _Had they cut her?_

" _¿Y en tus manitas?_ " I asked, holding her hands in mine. The skin between her knuckles was swollen and irritated.

" _Garras_ " was all she said… _claws_.

I froze. It must have been a thrilling moment for them. The treatment was working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Cry Baby Cry", The Beatles.


	2. Scary Stories

****"Whatever fear invents**   
**I swear it makes no sense**   
**I reach out through the border fence**   
**Come down, come talk to me..."**

I used to love parks. They're the perfect spot to regain some mental peace when the world is on your shoulders. Maybe that's why they have so many here. In a densely populated city with tons of cars and stressful jobs, parks are needed to keep people sane. Hollywood loves to portray Mexico City as a boring, unsafe, yellowish place that resembles a desert or a ghost town. But in real life, there's a special energy to this city, and it certainly is as green as it can get: good weather, blue skies, the sun shining for at least two or three hours a day, and dozens of parks --it even has one two times larger than New York's Central Park, it's so big it has a REAL castle sitting on top of a hill.

 _Like a fairytale!_ Laura would say.

Roma and Condesa neighborhoods used to be my favorites too. _La Condesa_ , the bohemian and charming district: vintage cafes full of artists and lovers, cute restaurants and boutiques, tree-lined streets, tourists crowding the _taquerías_ every evening, European architecture, cozy bookshops, street art, and beautiful parks: delightful pockets of nature full of people, dog schools _\--yes, dog schools_ \-- and children, lots of them.

Oh, yes, I definitely used to love parks.

I was currently sitting on one of the benches with little wooden roofs, enjoying the beautiful view. I was going to be working the night shift, so I had plenty of time to spare before walking towards the _metro_. I hadn’t been here in months. I usually walked the other way to avoid this park --not that I lived in this neighborhood, it's too expensive-- but my place was close enough to get to _Parque México_ on foot, only a 30 minute walk. There was a huge jungle gym and several climbing structures for kids in front of me. Óscar, our youngest, had turned five three days ago. He would have loved to come here on his birthday.

The elementary school across the street opened its doors. The school day was over. My view was of bobbing heads, whorls of hair and glimpses of features. The kids came out in a surge, running, rolling, elbowing, stumbling, pushing each other forward. Faces strained ahead in the anticipation of some pleasure.The playground sets came to life as little hands stained with chocolate and dirt began to grasp the poles. There was a girl in a blue school uniform on one of the swings, like most little girls from Mexico City she had black hair, slightly tanned skin, and big brown eyes. I was watching the blurred line of her moving shoulders, her wrinkled white socks, her dreamy appearance, the way she raised her eyebrows. This was exactly why I avoided places full of school children, everywhere I looked I saw Rictor’s unruly hair or Delilah’s cute face. Right now, I was undoubtedly looking at Laura. She should be wearing that same uniform and sucking on a _paleta de hielo_ as she dared her friend to jump from the swing. Instead, she was trapped in a cold lab, learning how to kill grown men. _Why did it have to be like this? She was only ten._

The air was warm as I got up and resumed my walk. I still had to find a good spot to eat lunch and then pay a visit to a sick friend who needed help with her injections --that’s why I'd come this way in the first place. Night-shift nursing usually meant a slower pace and less distractions, many nurses at Transigen liked the autonomy that came with working the night shift because we only had to check on the children every two hours, and the only staff that stayed with us were two or three Reavers who would usually fall asleep in their quarters instead of doing their job. However, I dreaded night shifts because there was always bad news when I arrived. I couldn't even relax at home, I was constantly thinking about all the things that could go wrong during my absence. Only a few days ago, Charlotte had to be reanimated because one of the doctors miscalculated the dosage of a drug. Rictor had gotten so mad at his stupidity, that he'd had to be sedated before he could hurt someone.

After spending the whole evening walking along sidewalks, drinking coffee with my friend, and riding the subway, I arrived at my personal hell. I signed in at the security desk and then walked over to the main elevator that would take me deep into the ground. No matter how many times I rode it, it still made me claustrophobic. The heavy metal door opened and I stepped out into the vast floor space. I left my belongings in the locker nearby and changed into my uniform, then walked down the corridor where I ran into Valeria leaving. The look on her face told me everything as she stopped in front of me.

“ _¿Qué pasó ahora?_ ” I demanded. My breath was catching up in my throat. She took my elbow and steered me further away from the elevator before she spoke again. 

“Shhh, they’re already asleep. It’s Laura” Valeria whispered as she clutched her bag and looked over her shoulder.

“ _¿Está bien?_ What happened?” I insisted anxiously.

“Calm down, she’s fine - _of course she is_." The nurse responded quickly as she put her hand on my shoulder, trying to lose my rigid pose. "It’s just that she… she stabbed one of the coaches. He’s dead.”

I gave a weary sigh and brought my hands to my face, running them down it slowly, knowing that the girl was surely being severely punished for losing control.

It wasn't the first time Laura did something like this. Two years ago, she'd killed a doctor when he tried to break her arm for an experiment. They'd been gradually enhancing her healing factor since she was two, and every once in a while they hurt her badly to assess it: they stabbed her, burned her skin, shot her, and beat her until she couldn't stand up or even breathe. The abuse was getting worse and worse with each passing year. Laura had never fully acknowledged that she was being abused; after these sessions, she would usually go into shock and then pretend it had never happened --that was her brain's automatic response to trauma, her 'self-protection' mechanism. Maybe she really managed to forget.

“They let her out of the 'icebox' an hour ago. I just gave her a shower and put her to bed” Valeria mumbled, studying my face.

The 'icebox' was a dark and cold cell where Donald Pierce locked up the children when they did something awful like killing someone they weren’t supposed to or destroying expensive medical equipment. The worst part of the ordeal was the harness they put around their necks, wrists and ankles; the poor things got red and screamed their lungs out, but try as they may, they could never move an inch --let alone escape the room. The lack of tranquilizers was always part of the punishment, instead, a Reaver stayed with them, holding a stun gun, ready to use it if they didn't stop trashing and screaming. 

“How long did they leave her in there?” I inquired, recalling the terrified, horrible screams that echoed through the neglected corridors and rattled inside our heads every time one of the children was locked up.

“All day. More than 12 hours” Valeria said, almost apologizing for not having been able to do anything to stop them.

“Did she tell you anything when they let her out?” I asked. This was a key question when it came to Laura.

“No. I asked her about it, but she wouldn't _or_ _couldn't_ tell me anything." Valeria shrugged, then forced a reassuring smile to her face. "Don’t worry, I’m sure her voice will be back in the morning. She'll be fine.” 

My head nodded up and down as if it didn't really belong to me. _"Sí"_ I mumbled.

Laura suffered from a rare condition called _selective mutism_. It’s a communication disorder in which a child who is normally capable of speech is unable to speak in certain situations. It's not that they refuse to speak in public or to strangers, they simply can't. There are children who have broken limbs and they haven't asked for help. Laura vomited on herself once when she was seven because she couldn’t tell the coach that she was feeling sick. Nobody knows what triggers this condition, and no other kid in Transigen had it. Each selectively mute child has their own set of strict rules. In Laura's case, she could speak to those closest to her --the nurses and the other children-- as long as there was nobody else around, but she wouldn't talk to other people, no matter how nice they were to her. Whenever she was alone with me or her friends she was bursting with life and bossing the boys around, _a little chatter box,_ but as soon as Pierce or anyone from the staff walked in the room, her emotional state changed: her body language displayed anxiety and she closed her mouth. It was like having two girls in one. Being trapped in her silent world, Laura was often unable to verbally express what she felt, wanted, or needed. She wasn't shy though; she would grin, approach some of the teachers, and even show them things. However, her lips would remain glued together during these interactions.

Laura was diagnosed by Dr. Johnson --one of our American pediatricians-- when she was five. He was a nice elderly man with tons of experience in the field. Being diagnosed was a good thing because only then did Pierce, Dr. Rice, and the others stopped punishing her for not speaking. They decided that as long as she could do _everything else_ , it was fine. Pierce liked to call her names like “the mute” or "mutie". Most people thought of Laura as a wild animal because they only heard sharp screams and grunts from her. She was a smart girl, but also a very stubborn one. She liked to get her own way and got frustrated with herself when she couldn't communicate with others. Her emotional IQ, which was that of a six-year-old, had been stunted due to the continuous traumatic stress and isolation. This is why I gave her special attention and care, without it, she was likely to develop more severe mental and emotional issues. 

“Did she eat something?” I asked Valeria as she fastened the buttons on her cardigan. Laura ate two or three times more than the average ten-year-old, so I often worried that she might go hungry. Her healing factor consumed many calories and she trained very hard every day.

She shook her head, stuffing her badge into her pocket. “No, she didn’t want to eat anything. But don't wake her up, she had a tough day" She gave my shoulder an affectionate squeeze and sighed. "I have to go now, Gaby. _No te preocupes por ella, amiga. Va a estar bien._ _Nos vemos mañana”_ she said as walked over to the elevator and pressed the button.

“Ok. See you tomorrow, Vale, and thanks for telling me!” I shouted as the elevator doors began to close.

For a moment I just stood there, fighting the urge to go to Laura's cell. I shook my head and sighed. Valeria was right, she needed to sleep, so instead, I set off down the corridor slowly. The facility was deserted, its air of having been vacated of bodies and clamor only minutes before made its emptiness more complete. As I pushed open the door to the room I usually stayed in on night shifts --a small space equipped with a bed, a desk, and a coffee carafe-- I glanced over my shoulder to check if I was truly on my own.

I hung my coat, placed my bag on the bed and poured myself a full cup of coffee. The clock read 11:55pm, that meant I still had another hour before inspecting the children's cells. We were not allowed to bring our phones into the facility, so I pulled a book from my bag, leaned back against the headboard and began to read.

  
++++++++++

1:20 am.

For practical reasons, the cells were not far from my room. This arrangement made it easier to know if one of the children was awake or needed assistance during the night.

I put my book away, grabbed my key-card and stepped out of the room. I shivered as I strode purposefully towards the 'Restricted Area: Authorized Personel Only' sign on the set of swing doors at the end of the corridor, scolding myself for leaving my coat in the room. It was freezing cold down here during the night, and sometimes I felt the need to throw more blankets on the kids, even if Dr. Rice didn't like it because ' _they must learn to adapt to low temperatures_.'

Once I was inside the cells area I began to move slowly from one to another, _“Charlotte, Delilah, Rictor, Tomás, Jamaica,_ _Bobby_ _…_ ” I was whispering to myself as I methodically looked into each room. They were all soundly asleep --no, not all of them.

“ _¿Laura?_ ”

I stopped. She wasn't in her bed. 

Without any hesitation I reached into my cardigan pocket and took out the key-card.

 _"¿Laura?"_ I muttered once more as I walked through the door. My eyes scanned the room, she was nowhere to be seen. Acting on instinct, I crossed the small space and looked under the bed.

A pair of big brown eyes greeted me. She was there, curled up in a fetal position with her left palm resting on the cold floor. 

“ _¿Qué haces ahí abajo, nena?”_ I inquired through a frown, taking in her untidy appereance.

She glanced back at me, the tension in her body was so great that she seemed to be holding her breath. I offered my hand to her, but she ignored it. “Come out, let me see you.” 

I waited. For a long moment she returned my gaze, her eyes were flat and empty, she seemed totally unaware of my presence.

I sighed heavily and closed my eyes for a second. _"Ven, mi cielo_ ” I whispered, reaching out to grab hold of her arm and drag her toward me.

Once Laura was out, I helped her stand and pulled her round to face me. Apparently, I'd just mopped the floor with her white clothes because all the dust accumulated under the bed was now on them. I was doing the best I could to brush the dust from her pajamas when I noticed that they were wet. _She'd wet herself_. That hadn’t happened since she was four.

Any child would have been feeling guilty or even embarassed right now, but Laura was just looking at me with vacant eyes. I laid a hand on the top of the girl’s tangled hair and looked down on her. I knew what she was doing, she was detaching herself from her body.

“It's ok. This happens sometimes. _Vamos a limpiarte, hermosa_ ” I tried to sound calm, but my voice was shaking. This was not normal, even for her.

Fear and concern were creeping up my back as I opened the back door. Every cell was connected to a big cellar where we kept clothes, blankets, snacks and other supplies for the children. Only nurses had access to it. I grabbed a packet of baby wipes, a mop, underwear, a bottle of _Gatorade,_ and a brand-new set of the thermal clothing our kids wore as a kind of uniform. We had tons of these because their clothes got ruined very often.

I went back to Laura with my hands full of things. She hadn’t moved one inch, she was standing very still and staring into space. Something tightened in my chest. I’d always thought that Laura was too short for her age, she was ten but could easily pass for seven or eight. The doctors said it was due to her healing factor. Right now, she looked even younger to me.

I knew I should take her downstairs to the showers and clean her properly, but I didn’t want to wake anyone, especially not _them,_ so I crossed the room and crouched down in front of her. I took the dirty long-sleeved shirt off her, then immediately helped her into the new one --I didn’t want her to be cold. I also removed her ruined pajama bottoms and underwear. She would normally be talking nonstop, going through all that had happened during the day as I tried to stop her from moving. Cursory care had never been easier, and yet it felt wrong. 

I reached for the baby wipes and snagged a couple of them. She didn't even flinch when the cold, wet cloth came into contact with her warm skin. I was absently wiping her thighs and girl parts clean when a horrible thought struck me. My hands dropped and I lifted my head as a cold shiver ran down my spine.

 _What if?_ _No, they wouldn’t dare. That’s a line not even Donald Pierce would cross._

Visions of Laura in that pitch black room were flashing through my mind. Now I knew why I was shaking.

These hitmen or Reavers, _as they called themselves,_ were replaced constantly. Pierce used them to fight or control the children but, occasionally, they ended up severely hurt or even dead (Laura herself had taken down a few). They knew the rules, they knew what they could or couldn't do to the kids. They knew that these children were test subjects, Transigen’s _'_ _property',_ not toys. They knew that doing something to them without Donald Pierce's permission was a death sentence.

But still… there were a few new ones. They’d been working here less than a week. What if Laura had been in that cell with one of them, wearing the restraint harness and handcuffs, unable to move? Unable to ask for help? What if nobody had explained ALL the rules to this man before locking him up with the girl?

I’d seen enough of the world to know that pedophiles and perverts are always closer than we think. María, Valeria and the rest of us had always been very careful with the children. We’d made sure to teach them from a young age about physical boundaries so they could look after themselves. But the phrase 'My body belongs to me' was a bit confusing to Laura because these psychos were constantly hurting her to test her healing factor.

I was a nurse and knew what to look for in these cases, but Laura’s skin erased any trace of damage within seconds, and Valeria had given her a shower earlier anyway. There was no point in laying her on the bed and examine her -she was uncomfortable enough already- and I was sure that I wouldn’t find anything on the surface.

I quickly grabbed her discarded underwear and looked for any kind of discharge.

Nothing.

 _What do I do?... Think, Gabriela, think_ …I innerly urged myself, closing my eyes. _Maybe I could ask Dr. Johnson --that nice American pediatrician-- to check her internally tomorrow, see if he can find something._ No, he wasn't allowed to conduct any tests without permission. I would only get him in trouble, and we needed him, he was kind to the children. Besides, sneaking her into the doctor’s office would be another problem.

It was totally silent in the room. Laura was still motionless, staring away, she didn't appear to notice that the cell was cold and she was only wearing a flimsy shirt. I felt helpless, and useless, and stupid. Why did she have to kill the coach while I was away? What was I going to do if that man had hurt her? How was I going to help her? _I hated this place. I hated them. I hated all this._

She looked lost and alone and I felt the all too familiar tug at my heart. I straightened her shirt and finished dressing her, before gathering her into my arms.

“I got you” I whispered in her ear. She instictively wrapped her legs around my waist as I sat on the edge of the bed, holding her close to me, inhaling her sweet scent: warm milk, soap, and something else… _something feral_.

She buried her face in my neck and clung to me and I could feel her small body shaking. 

“ _¿Laura?_ ” I asked gently “ _¿Por qué tiemblas, mi vida?_ ” 

...

“Talk to me.” I muttered. “Why are you shaking?” 

The silence stretched on, it seemed like she was going to remain silent and frozen for the rest of the night. I was desperate for her to tell me what was wrong, otherwise I wouldn't be able to help her. 

“ _Por favor_ , _¿Qué pasó?_ ” I pressed, switching to the language she favored, though it didn't seem to make a difference. 

...

“ _¿Qué tienes, hija?_ ” 

...

_"¿Te lastimó?"_

...

 _"No me dejes, mi amor”_ I was on the edge of losing it. “Come back to me, baby...Answer me...It’s me, Gabriela.” I said, kissing her neck and holding her tight in a desperate attempt to bring her back to herself. This was how she usually reacted after having been tortured, but I’d never seen her this troubled before.

She needed me. I had to keep trying because nobody else would help her. “Did he hurt you?” I asked.

She hesitated, and then gave a nod.

I took a deep breath, hoping to calm myself. On the one hand I was relieved that she was finally responding, but on the other I was afraid to hear what had happened. “Did he… did he use the stun gun on you?” 

She nodded once more, and I felt my anger spike. _Maldito desgraciado_. 

“Did he…mmm…did he put his hands on you?” I hesitated, uncomfortable. This was the last thing any person would like to ask a little girl.

She took a significant pause, then shook her head. 

_“¿No intentó desvestirte o hacerte algo extraño?”_ I inquired, trying to be more specific, but all I received was a stiff shake of the head.

I unconsciously held her closer and stroked her soft hair. He hadn’t touched her, he hadn’t tried to undress her.

I remained silent for a moment, then asked her what I felt would be a logical question. _“¿Te pegó?”_

She shook her head once more. He hadn’t hit her either.

“Did he do anything strange...something you didn’t want to see?” 

_“No_ ” she finally replied, her voice a little more than a whisper. 

I smiled, happily at first because she was finally speaking, but then my face fell. “You know” I said, rubbing my palm over her back as I began a gentle rocking that seemed to be comforting myself as much as the girl. “He can’t hurt me. He can't hurt your friends or any of the other nurses --he’s not allowed-- so don’t be afraid to tell me the truth. You know the boundary touching rules, right?"

She gave a nod.

"You know that nobody should try to touch you in an uncomfortable way, right?" I loosened my arms and tried to pull her away from me in order to see her face, but she didn't let go, so I just had to leave them round her torso. _Laura was far stronger than me_. 

_"Sí"_ she whispered.

 _"¿Segura que no te hizo ninguna de esas cosas?”_ I asked as my eyes shot reflexively around the room. I really needed to see her expression. 

“ _Sí_ ” She replied, this time her voice came out a bit clearer and louder. She was telling the truth.

At this, I let out an audible breath of relief. I really had imagined that man had done something terrible to this kid. But if he hadn't abused her, then why was she so scared?

 _“¿Entonces?”_ I asked gently, and in response her arms held me tighter and her body went stiff. 

_“Aquí estoy, mi amor_ ” I murmured into her neck, attempting to offer some comfort. "Tell me what happened"

Summoning all her courage, she lifted her head, her hands slowly falling away from my neck.

 _“Me dijo algo feo”_ Laura said quietly. 

"He said something mean to you? That was all?" I asked, feeling the blank incomprehension on my face, and she nodded silently.

Laura was a tough cookie; she rarely got scared or cried. Why would she be so upset over something so insignificant? This was getting weirder by the minute.

“What did he say to you?” I asked, frowning.

At this, she dropped her gaze and her shoulders lifted on a shrug, her brows pulled together.

"Laura..." I muttered, pushing her untidy hair away from her face. "Tell me" 

I waited patiently, and then, suddenly, the words rushed out of her mouth.

 _“Me dijo que el dolor de la stun gun no es nada a comparación de…de lo que me van a hacer en unos días”_ Laura whimpered as tears began to roll down her tanned cheeks. _“Dice que… que me van a inyectar todos los huesos con muchas agujas enormes… y que el líquido me va a quemar tanto que… que voy a desear estar en el infierno...”_ she blubbered, her breath coming in short and ragged gasps. _“Y que después de eso ya no podré crecer… o que igual y me muero en el proceso de puro dolor.”_

She buried her face against my shoulder and clung to me desperately, crying like she was three again. I fell silent, her violent sobs shivering against my skin. My heart clutched with fury --no child should ever suffer like this. I slowly stood up and held her close, seriously considering taking her to my room. It was warmer there and she wouldn't be alone.

“Laura?” A sweet voice said behind the wall. It was Bobby, one of the boys. Laura's cries had woken him up. “Are you ok? Do you want me to call Gabriela?” His voice was filled with concern.

“It’s ok, love. I’m here with her. Go back to bed” I said gently, trying to keep my voice down. 

“Ok.” he muttered, resigned. Bobby was a sweetheart, I had a soft spot for him too.

"Shh, Laura, shhh. _Está bien, está bien_." I chanted again and again until Laura's cries became a gentle sobbing. Her chest lifted and fell again. I didn't know if it was a great sigh, or if she was fighting for breath. My cardigan was damp with her tears, her little hands clutching it tightly. That monster had tortured her with the stun gun, only to tell her afterward that the pain she was feeling was nothing compared to what they were going to do to her in a few days: _‘He says they’ll inject a hot thing into my bones with huge needles, and it’s going to burn so bad I’m gonna wish I were in hell instead. And I won’t be able to grow up after that, or maybe I will just die out of pain’_

I’d heard that story before. Every adult in here knew it, but that didn’t mean we could torture this _specific_ little girl with it. 

I was about to tell her that it wouldn’t happen. That I would never let them do that to her, that he was just trying to scare her. But I refrained. _What if he wasn’t lying? What if Dr. Rice was going to follow into his father’s footsteps?_ Laura was meant to be a weapon after all. She had been created to be as lethal as her father. However, why would they do it now? That didn't make any sense, she was still a child.

I needed to know what was going on. This was wrong, this was all wrong. It couldn’t go on forever, someone had to speak up. I’d been living in fear for nine years now. It was time I swallowed the fear and did something... anything. I had to find out what this ‘process thing’ was about. I had to know if that _man_ was lying or not. I would ask Pierce about it, and then tell him what that monster had told Laura. This baby’s tears wouldn't be in vain. _He would pay for it._

 _“Shhhh. Ya no llores, mi pequeña._ _Ya no llores.”_ I soothed her, bringing a hand up to her head. Her sobs were finally beginning to subside, her body going limp in my arms. _God, she was exhausted._ “I will tell Pierce that his hitman told you a stupid story when he was supposed to be watching you. And he’ll get punished, you’ll see.” 

_“No dijo que fuera una historia”_ she managed in a hoarse, barely discernable whisper. Damn, she was too perceptive for her own good, and my mouth was too big.

“Of course it’s just a story.” I lied. “He got it from a comic book” 

_“¿Qué es un comic book?”_ she inquired, suddenly curious, as she lifted her head to stare at my face, wiping the trails of tears and leaving behind black smudges from her dirt-smeared hands. 

I put her down and picked up the baby wipes and the bottle of _Gatorade_ from the floor. 

“ _Es un… son_ books with lots of pictures which tell the stories of good people who fight bad people.. _.Superhéroes_ ” I tried to explain as she rubbed her eyes. “But don’t worry about that right now” I said quietly, dismissing the subject, as I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her onto my lap. I wiped her tear-stained cheeks and nose, brushed her chaotic hair away from her hot face, and then opened the drink and offered it to her.

 _“No quiero.”_ Laura whined, turning her head away. I smiled at her irritability, it was a sure sign of her tiredness.

 _“Poquito, nada más... Por favor”_ I insisted. She processed that for a moment and then took a sip, then a big gulp. She drank the whole bottle without one pause to draw breath. I knew she was dehydrated; they never gave the kids water or food when they locked them up, and Laura had been in the cell for several hours.

I put the bottle away and tenderly pulled her to my chest, looking down at her. "You're not that little baby that used to fit perfectly in my arms anymore, are you?" I muttered, running my fingers through her dark hair as I took her in. She looked up at me with her beautiful brown eyes, love and trust replacing the fire and determination they usually wore, and then gave a shrug; and in response, I leaned down and planted tiny kisses on her forehead and cheeks and neck until she laughed and squirmed. She’d always been ticklish.

During the first half of the 20th century, many psychologists believed that showing affection towards children was merely a sentimental gesture that served no real purpose, until a psychologist named Harry Harlow conducted a series of experiments on baby monkeys. He gave them two dolls instead of real mothers. One was made of wire, and the other was made of wool. Even though the wire mom was holding a bottle of milk, the monkeys chose the woolen mother every time, and even tried to develop a sort of attachment to it. It turned out that many of these monkeys died, even when they were being properly fed and cared for. By showing the devastating effects of deprivation on young monkeys, Harlow revealed the importance of a caregiver's love for healthy childhood development.

Dr. Rice got very angry every time he caught me or my fellow nurses showing affection to the children, but little did he know that these babies probably wouldn’t have made it without it. In Mexican culture showing affection to your kids on a daily basis is just as important as feeding them. _And turns out we are in Mexico, and I am Mexican, and these children are Mexican too, Dr. Rice._

Laura yawned and rubbed her eyes roughly once more. She was putting up a very good fight against falling asleep --that was how she avoided nightmares-- so I began to run my fingers lightly across her face, my index finger tracing her eyebrows and forehead. She was resisting the urge to blink. Then I began to sing softly the song my dad used to sing to me when I was upset. He would always change a few words so it would suit me better. I wondered if Laura’s dad would have loved her the way my dad loved me...

  
_“Muñequita linda de cabellos negros_

_de dientes de perla, labios de rubí._

_dime si me quieres cómo yo te adoro,_

_si de mí te acuerdas como yo de ti._

_Y a veces escucho un eco divino_

_que envuelto en la brisa_

_parece decir:_

_'Sí, te quiero mucho,_

_mucho, mucho, mucho,_

_tanto como entonces_

_siempre, hasta morir”'_

Laura was losing the fight against her heavy lids, her breathing becoming deep and steady. I cradled her close and held her until she drifted to sleep, then I slowly stood up and set her carefully down on the bed. She stirred and I shushed her gently as I covered her small body with the blankets. Before leaving, I mopped the floor under the bed and picked up all her dirty clothes. It was time to check on the children again, but I knew they were all asleep, including Bobby.

With a heavy heart I turned around and walked back to my room. This wasn’t living, this was surviving. It was abuse and theft of childhood. I had to do something for this girl, _for these children_. Conan Doyle said once that it’s every man’s business to see justice done.

I agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Gabriela sings is called "Te quiero, dijiste" ('I love you', you said).  
> Mexican author and composer, María Grever, wrote it for her daughter Laura after the little girl died unexpectedly. The bitter-sweet melody and powerful lyrics made this song into an instant classic lullaby for little girls. This music piece has been performed by some of the greatest orchestras and singers of our time, including Luciano Pavarotti and Nat King Cole.  
> The bit Gabriela sings to Laura can be roughly translated as:
> 
> "Beautiful little doll with dark hair  
> pearly teeth, and ruby lips,  
> tell me if you love me the way I adore you  
> If you remember me as I remember you.
> 
> And at times I hear a divine echo  
> that wrapped up in the breeze  
> feels as if it said: 'Yes, I love you so,  
> so much, so much, so much,  
> as much as in those days,  
> forever, until death."  
> +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
> **"Come Talk To Me", Peter Gabriel.


	3. Comic Books

****"Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park**   
**I asked God who I'm supposed to be..."**

When I was in my late twenties, I enrolled in yoga classes. I was never good at it -not even close- but I kept attending the classes regularly because there was relaxing music and sweet scents sprayed all over the room. Exactly what I needed before going to my stressful job at the _National Institute of Pediatrics_. This teacher would try very hard to convince us that the human mind has extraordinary powers that influence our lives, therefore, we should be very careful with our thoughts.  
I never believed him. I never got any proof that it was true.

Until today.

The air was keen and dust free; the rush-hour crowd pushed forward quickly, purposefully, as I walked the noisy route to my apartment. It was early morning and impresively hot, but the weather had little effect on my mood. I felt guilty for leaving Laura alone in her cell after all she’d been through. I was angry with the monster who had stolen her mental peace. I was worried he might not be lying. But I was also very determined to get rid of the fear, to stop giving them control over me. My parents were dead, my grandmother was dead; I had aunts and cousins back in the town I'd left when I was fifteen, but none of them were close enough to my heart. I had no husband or children --I was married to my work-- _my children_ were the young mutants I looked after. 

It was only me, myself, and I. I had nothing to lose.

I fished the apartment keys from my handbag and unlocked the front gate to the modest apartment block I lived in. I spent most of my time at Transigen, so I didn’t need much. Ironically, thanks to the hellish facility I had an everyday destination, a place where I was expected, a shred of identity. My legs were feeling as heavy as my eyelids as I was moving towards the entrance. I'd had enough for one night and was really looking forward to spending the day alone in my living room in front of the TV, surrounded by familiar mess. It was 7am, the single mother next door was dragging her little daughter downstairs. They were late for school again.

“ _¡Buenos días, Gabriela!_ ” The woman waved at me. The little girl waved too, her perfect ponytail held by a pink bow bobbing as she strode hurriedly towards her mother’s car. We were not allowed to doll up the girls at the facility, our girls’ hair was always as wild as the wind.

 _“Buenos días”_ I replied through a smile, making my way up the stairs. 

_“¡Gaby, por cierto!"_ The slim, long-haired woman called after me and I looked over my shoulder. She was hurriedly approaching me, her car keys jingling in her hand. _"Ayer dejaron una caja afuera de tu puerta. La metí a mi casa para que no le pasara nada, deja te la doy.”_ she said as she ran back upstairs, brushing past me.

I frowned as the woman hurried into her apartment. Someone had left a box on my doorstep. 

_“Aquí está._ _No tenía ninguna nota, solo estaba así”_ she said a few seconds later, racing out the door, handing me a plain cardboard box. She was right, it didn’t have a note, a name, or anything at all.

 _“Gracias, Lety”_ I muttered, opening my front door. 

_"¡De nada!"_ Lety rushed out as she spun around and rushed downstairs.

I took off my cardigan and put the mysterious package on the table. For a long moment I stared thoughtfully at the box, there was a strange silence in the room. I didn’t even know if it was actually for me. What if someone had made a mistake? What if there was something...bad inside?

It was several minutes before I could summon up the courage to open the box. I was being too paranoid, Lety had had it in her house the whole night and nothing had happened.

 _Curiosity killed the cat, Gabriela._ I chided myself as I carefully ripped the tape that held the two flaps together and peeked inside.

_Comic books?_

The box contained four X-Men comic books, they looked old and --to be honest-- expensive, like the kind of thing a collector would pay a fortune for. They were in English, so this was definitely for me, it couldn’t be a coincidence. I mean, I worked for the very monsters who were using the DNA of some of these long dead mutants to bring their babies into the world.

I drew in a shaky breath and took them out one by one. I was so nervous that I almost jumped when a sheet of paper fell from one of them. I crouched down to pick it up. It looked like a list, although it didn’t make any sense.

_www.TWfanpop.com_ \-- **FIND HIM**

 _55-28-58-99_ **\--VISAS**

 _Avenida Patriotismo 63, Escandón, Miguel Hidalgo, 11800 Ciudad de México, CDMX._ **\--CAR. TAKE IT WHEN THE TIME COMES.**

I found myself becoming more confused as I read the words. _Find who? What car?_ Eventually, I turned my attention back to the box. There were also two yellow envelopes and a brand new cellphone inside. I hesitantly reached into the box and pulled out one of the envelopes. 

My jaw dropped. It contained American dollars, probably more than 30,000. I quickly grabbed the second one and opened it --Mexican pesos, about 15,000. I dragged a chair from beneath the table and dropped onto it, my mouth had gone dry as sandpaper. I reached out for the comic books and began to flip through the pages in the hope that they held a clue to this mystery. My fingers came to a stop on a picture of an old man sitting in a wheelchair -- _Professor X--_ He was holding _a device?_ _a plate?_ with numbers on it --coordinates, I guessed. The person who'd sent me all this had attached a note to the page: **SAVE THEM. SAVE HER.**

I stared down at the page incredulously for a couple of seconds, then stood abruptly, intent on my bedroom. My laptop was open on the bed. I hit the power button and as soon as the screen lit up my fingers flew impatiently over the keyboard, googling the website written on the list. It was a kind of forum where hard-core fans of _The Wolverine_ discussed every single aspect about him. I scrolled down through the posts. There was a new one: _“Hey, guys! My cousin sent me this a minute ago. Logan was spotted leaving Target in San Antonio”_

Beneath the words, there was a blurry picture of a shabby old man in worn-out clothes carrying two plastic bags full of groceries. Some fans were sure that it wasn’t him, whereas others were very excited, thanking the guy for posting the picture.

 _'Find him'_ I murmured, staring at the old-looking version of the famous superhero. I'd never seen his face before --his real face-- but the accurate portrayal of his daughter's features was engraved in my mind. If the picture hadn't been so blurry I probably would have been able to tell if it was him.

I sighed, shaking my head, as I scrolled down to the next page. I didn’t know what to make of all this, going to the police was out of the question. Feeling completely overwhelmed and confused, I went back to the living room and buried myself deep in the X-Men comic books, hoping to find an answer. I was already familiarized with most of the characters --and the story in general. _Who wasn’t_ ? The X-Men were quite popular, they were like Superman: even if someone hadn't read the comic books, they still knew that kryptonite hurt him and Lois Lane loved him. 

I remained seated on the couch, reading, unaware of the passage of time. It began to rain, then it stopped, then it resumed. At last I heard from another apartment the remote chime of a clock striking four, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything or even taken a shower. Besides, I had only had a few hours sleep last night and I had to be fresh and ready for work tomorrow. Almost ten years on, it still made me uneasy to go to that place.

+++++++++

My mornings were always the same. I had to show my pass to the familiar taciturn guard, sign in at the security desk, walk across the lobby among self-important people and then penetrate deep into the building. _It was for dull repetitions like this that people kept their jobs._ The children woke up at six every morning and had breakfast at seven; afterwards, María, Valeria, Paty or myself led them to the waiting room to read and play while they digested their food. At 8:45 someone from the staff would come and take them to the training rooms. They trained until midday. Laura usually had to stay two extra hours, four days a week, because her mutation was only useful if her martial arts skills were excellent. She had come out of those rooms sulking and caked in sweat and blood more times than I cared to remember.

Her daily routine was by far the worst. She often ended up showering and having lunch without her friends, which made her the most isolated child in Transigen. On these days, I always tried to make her feel less miserable by washing her hair with the bubble gum scented shampoo I sometimes sneaked in for the girls, or by telling her stories about the city while she ate her lunch in the deserted dining room. One might think that hearing stories about the world outside would only make her depressed and more aware of her captivity, but she absolutely loved them. It was another way to escape reality.

 _“¿Te despertó hoy el señor de la bicicleta que vende café?”_ she’d ask me through a big smile. _“¿O el camión de la basura?”_

Laura loved to hear about all the particular noises Mexico City has. She found it very funny that I got woken up almost every morning by the ding-dong of the trash truck, or by the man who sells coffee and calls his customers with a horn.

 _"Hoy no me despertó nadie, pero vi en el parque a un organillero”_ I’d say, even if I hadn’t seen any. It was hard for her to believe that there were men dressed in khaki uniforms that played out-of-tune music on very antique German harmonipans wandering around the city.

 _"Cuéntame otra vez cómo es el Parque México”_ she’d beg with her cheeks full of cold meat or rice. No matter how hard I tried to teach her good table manners, she kept speaking with a full mouth and using her fingers. 

“Well, this park is full of trees.” I’d say. Parks and forests were on the top of her list of things she wanted to see someday. “There are trees everywhere you look and also people jogging and running --some of them get followed by cute dogs. You wouldn’t believe the amount of dogs this park receives every day! There’s even a dog school, a place where people leave their dogs to be taught obedience by a dog whisperer. And there's a huge fountain and sometimes children get in when their parents aren't looking!”

And finally, she’d ask her favorite question, although she'd heard the same answer thousands of times. “ _¿Y cómo es el cielo ahí?”_

“The sky is blue--” I'd begin, but she would cut me off immediately.

“--as always.” she'd say confidently.

“Yes, as always, _amor mío_.”

Hopefully, today wouldn't be one of those days. Even if I enjoyed Laura's company, it was sad to see her so lonely. I looked down nervously at my watch again, I knew I was late. It was María's time to go off duty, she needed to get home and get her son ready for school. I strode quickly to the waiting room, sipping coffee from a plastic cup bearing Transigen's logo, bought from a machine in the corridor that dispensed chocolate bars, cookies, and sodas. _Sometimes I managed to sneak candy into the underground facility for the kids._

I pushed the door open. The children were reading, chatting, or playing with the few tattered toys they had in here. Laura, Charlotte and Delilah were playing _la papa caliente_ (a game Valeria had taught them) with a small weird-looking ball. Each kid had one of this, they were made of a special rubber that helped them calm down. These balls were some of the few belongings the young mutants were allowed to possess, and my little ones cherished them as treasures.

I turned my attention to Laura for a second, she was passing on the ball to her friends, singing and laughing as if nothing had happened the night before last, too immerse in the game to notice that I’d just walked in. Nah, she knew I was in the room but she didn’t want to lose. This was the Laura I loved and the Laura few people ever got to see.

“ _¡María!_ ” I exclaimed as the young nurse came out of the bathroom, donned in her uniform with a juice stain on it. _“Perdón por llegar tarde._ Traffic jam, you know…”

“You’re not late, _amiga_. Don’t worry.” she replied, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How was your weekly night shift, by the way?” she asked, crossing her arms, and I sighed tiredly.

“One of the worst nights I've ever had." I replied honestly before adding, "How’s Laura?”

We turned our heads to the girl, she was still giggling nervously as she tossed the ball to her friends.

“Fine. She was a bit pale and tired yesterday. I asked her about it and she told me she’d slept very little because _‘tuvo muchas pesadillas’_." María began "I don’t blame her, though, I’d be having lots of nightmares too if I were any of these kids. But this morning she was back to her _normal_ self. Why?”

I sighed heavily, shaking my head. “Pierce locked her up in the 'icebox'. I’ll tell you the whole story tomorrow.” 

“No, I don't think I want to know” she shivered as she walked over to the door. “See you, then. _No dejes que estos ‘angelitos’ te roben la paciencia”_ she joked as she closed the door behind her.

“I won’t. _Adiós_ ” I chuckled, waving at her.

I sighed and sat on the edge of a table. I was spent. I'd lain awake most of the night thinking about the box, and had finally passed out something close to three in the morning. I took another long sip from the cup of hot coffee. None of the kids was paying attention to me. I was about to ask Bobby to stop using his powers as a teaser gun against Rebecca when, suddenly, a leather-clad figure came through the door.

“All of you, follow me. Training time!” Donald Pierce shouted, a huge grin on his face.

The children immediately stood up, and I could practically see the energy and joy draining from their bodies. At that moment, Laura completely shut down and became silent, her smile vanishing as she picked up her ball and moved to take her place in the line. However, Pierce got hold of her wrist and pulled her aside rather roughly.

"Not you, mutie." he said as he shoved her towards me. Instinctively, I held the girl close to me and Pierce rolled his eyes. "Gabriela, take her to Dr. Johnson’s. The guys upstairs need blood samples” he ordered, walking back toward the door.

 _The Department of Epigenetics? What for? Why just her?_ _Oh, no._

I stumbled over my next words, not really sure if I should keep my promise. “Señor Pierce, I need to talk with you”

My mouth went dry as he spun round to face me.

“Me? ‘Bout what?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.

“About one of your new men” I stiffly choked out, nervousness evident in my voice. Laura stiffened and shot me a panicked look, and I realized that I did not wish to explain myself further with her in the room. “Privately” I added.

He considered my request for a few seconds, stretching the fingers of his robotic hand. “Yeah, whatever. Meet me at the training room when you’re done” He finally said, adding a smirk.

Another agonizing moment passed as Laura and I watched him dissapear into the long corridor, then I looked down at the girl and gave her a tight smile of reassurance as I took hold of her hand. _“Vamos, nena”_

Laura's hand was sweating as we walked towards the pediatric unit.

 _"¿Todo bien?”_ I asked. She gave a shaky nod and her grip on my hand tightened. _“No te preocupes, es el_ Dr. Johnson. He’s very nice to you, remember? There’s nothing to worry about.” I reassured her.

We stopped outside Dr. Johnson's office and knocked on the door. I thought I might have a minute alone with Laura, and turned to her, but the doctor was out almost immediately.

“Hello there.” he greeted us through a smile. He had always been kind to Laura and, though she would blush to admit it, she liked him lots. “Come on in, beautiful” The old, blue-eyed man said to the girl, jerking his head to usher her in.

Surprisingly, Laura greeted him back. _“Hola”_

Only a few weeks ago she had finally spoken to Dr. Johnson. During one of her well check-ups, she broke the silence and told him how Rictor had taught her a trick with a ball --it happened just like that, out of the blue. The doctor didn’t understand a word because she was speaking in Spanish but encouraged her to keep talking. Eventually, she began to speak in English too; small sentences like “I like that instrument” or “Jamaica says you’re 80 years old”. He was delighted.

The doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise and exchanged a smile with me before turning back to Laura.

“I’m going to examine you first -a quick physical exam- and then Gabriela is going to take a blood sample. Is that ok, sweetheart?" he asked gently as he led Laura to the examination table. I liked him because he treated the children like people. He teared up once while he was examining Laura because the girl had ended up with multiple organ failure after an assessment session when she was four. 

Dr.Johnson and Laura were having a little chat while he measured her and checked her heart rate, attempting to make the process a bit less daunting. I was carefully watching Laura, seeing signs that the girl was starting to relax as she talked. 

“You’ve grown almost an inch since I last saw you!” The doctor exclaimed as I wrote the numbers on a chart. “What have they been feeding you, girl?”

“Many things” she answered proudly, sitting on the examination table, legs dangling over the floor.

“Really!” he exclaimed once more as he examined her ears. “And what’s your favorite food?”

Laura thought for a brief moment and then answered his question. “Meatballs…and the red _arroz_ Cuquita makes.” she said through a smile.

“Se dice _rice_ ” I absently corrected her as I scribbled down a note on the chart.

“Rice!” Laura quickly repeated.

“Cuquita’s red rice must be delicious, then.” he said as he used one hand to slowly back her down on the examination table to palpate her abdomen.

 _No it isn't_ , I thought. The rice was awful, but Cuquita tried very hard to make all that frozen stuff they gave the children into something eatable.

After exchanging a few words with me about Laura's habits and general health, the doctor reached into a cabinet and pulled out two small tubes. “Gabriela, can you fill these for me, please?

I took the tubes from his hands and gathered the appropiate supplies. I cleansed Laura's arm with alcohol and whispered a _"sorry"_ before sticking the needle into her tiny vein. She didn't even wince. Once the tubes were filled with her blood, the pediatrician put them in two different boxes. One of them labelled _Department of Epigenetics,_ and the other _Lab 34_.

“I need you to take this sample upstairs, please.” he said, handing me the first box before shifting his attention back to Laura. “Now, I will call Rafael because this pretty girl is going to the X-ray room” 

He walked over to his desk and pressed a button. Mere seconds later, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in” Dr. Johnson muttered.

“Is the girl ready, Doctor?” the young assitant asked hesitantly as he entered the office. He was obviously nervous at the idea of having to deal with the famous, bad-tempered, silent _X-23._

“Yes” Dr. Johnson replied and then looked down at Laura. “Go with Rafael, honey. It’ll only take a minute.”

Laura pouted and Dr. Johnson let out a heartly laugh.

“I’ll give you a lollipop after we’re done. How about that?” At this, Laura's eyes widened and she nodded eagerly. Rafael moved to take her hand but Laura recoiled and clasped her hands behind her back. The poor assistant sighed and went back into the corridor. Laura followed him, keeping her distance from him. Maybe she feared he might try to hold her hand again. 

For a moment I simply stood there, holding the box in my hands, which oddly felt a lot heavier than it really was.

“Dr. Johnson?” I hesitated. He was sitting behind his desk, reading the notes I'd scribbled regarding Laura's physical examination.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he said, lifting his head. 

“Can I ask you a question?" I muttered "You don’t have to answer it if that’ll get you in trouble” I quickly added.

The doctor peered at me over the top of his silver-framed glasses for one second before he finally replied, “Yes, of course. What is it?” 

I dragged a chair up in front of his desk and sat down. “I… Do you know what all these samples and X-rays are for?" I carefully asked, gesturing toward the other box.

He looked puzzled, nurses weren't supposed to meddle in these affairs.

"Please don’t tell anyone what I'm about to confide to you" I said, rushing the words out before I changed my mind "But someone told Laura that they’re going to perform a very painful and dangerous operation on her in a few days. She was so scared she even wet herself and had a panic attack in the middle of the night. I told her it was all a lie, but now I’m not so sure.” 

The doctor nodded, understanding my question. He let out a heavy sigh and took off his glasses.

“We had a meeting with Dr. Rice about a week ago" he began "Members from all the departments and units were present, and the answer is _yes_ and _no_.” The doctor explained, studying my face.

I took a shallow, shaky breath. "I don't understand" 

“The sample you’re holding was required by the Department of Epigenetics because they’re working on something new and need Laura’s DNA for a test. I wouldn’t worry about them though, all they do is mix genes and grow all kinds of things -- _such as human ears on rats_. But in the end, they’re just like Dr. Frankenstein: once the new baby mutant is conceived or the new _thing_ is created they hardly ever see it again. It becomes somebody else’s problem. I’m pretty sure they're not planning to snatch Laura from us.” he smiled kindly, but something in his expression told me the answer I was afraid to hear. There was a slight pause and then the doctor spoke again. “The second sample and the X-rays…well… yes, it’s all going to the chemists and surgeons from Lab 34. They need to make sure the girl is in good shape before…before performing on her.” he finally confessed.

My heart sank and I felt my stomach turning to jelly. I had a strong desire to stand up and run out of this room, to get Laura and take her far away where none of them could ever touch her again. 

“Don’t get pale, Gabriela." he muttered, leaning toward me, his blue eyes full of pity. "I know what kind of operation Laura and you are worried about, but this will be nothing like it. What they did to Logan had never been done before, and it was a long time ago. Science has moved forward since then, and we have some of the best surgeons in the world." 

I was trying very hard not to cry. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. _Why did it always have to be her?_

“But if they cover her skeleton with adamantium she won’t be able to grow up…” My low voice was anxious.

At this, Dr. Johnson frowned. “What? No! They wouldn’t dream of doing something like that to her. They will only coat the bone claws!” he exclamied, all the anguish wiped clean from his features.

“And the pain? She’s very afraid of the burning and the needles” I insisted, gulping back the lump in my throat.

“Yes, they were considering doing it the old way. But a very compassionate young man from Epigenetics offered them a solution: to extract the claws, coat them with the alloy and then put them back in. This way, no needles would be going into her small limbs. Dr. Rice agreed because it reduces the risk of…you know." The doctor cleared his throat "As for the pain, they will use a drug that will partially inhibit Laura’s healing factor for a few hours --they need to keep the cut open, obviously-- which means that anesthesia will work on her. Whoever told Laura that she was going to get her skeleton coated in adamantium in such a painful way was just trying to scare her.” he smiled, shaking his head.

This whole explanation should have taken all my fears away, but it wasn’t the case. I felt like I was failing her --she had looked into my eyes that night and trusted me when I said that it was all a lie. _How was I going to tell her?_

“Tha…thank you for telling me Dr. Johnson." I stammered, moving to stand up. I was only too willing to get out of the room and leave behind the bad news that clung to the walls. "I will…I will try to explain all this to her. I’ll just… take this sample upstairs. Thank you again”

I hurried out of the doctor's office with my head down. Angry tears were at the corner of my eyes fighting to get out as I pressed the elevator button, clutching the box to my chest. I stared at myself in the mirror on the rear of the elevator door and took a deep breath before I reached for the up button.

The door opened on the first floor and I headed for the Epigenetics Department, a well-lit reception area where two other corridors, wider and without connecting doors, converged. There were potted plants on shelves and framed black and white newborn pictures on the walls. A secretary was sitting behind a half-circle desk of steel and glass, pouring herself a strong black coffee. She smelled of cigarrettes and expensive perfume.

“Hi. I’m here to deliver X23-23’s blood sample.” I said flatly. Still feeling the heaviness in my lungs.

She gestured to one of the corridors, not really caring about pleasantries. “Third door on your left.”

“Thank you” I said as I turned around. The woman took another sip of her coffee without acknowledging my thanks and fixed her gaze on the screen of her laptop.

Like an ever-present fog, the smell of chemicals crept in from the laboratories. In the distance, the sound of an electrical device pierced the still corridor. The laboratory was empty except for a young British man in a white coat, a geneticist. His name was Tom, and just like Dr. Johnson, he was one of the few likeable _human_ beings that could be found in the facility. He was also Valeria's crush. I rarely came up here because she made sure she got to do all the deliveries, just to see him. According my friend, the young geneticist often spilled top-secret information to her in order to impress her, but I had the feeling that it was the other way around. I didn’t blame her though; he had an attractive face and was usually smiling.

“Nurse Gabriela!” he greeted me cordially, genuinely pleased to see me. 

“Hello, Dr-” I began, but he immediately shook his head.

“Call me Tom, please" he smiled widely, flashing a set of white teeth. "Is that Laura’s blood sample?” he added, his gaze falling on the small box in my hands.

I frowned puzzledly. _What? How did he…?_

"How do you…how do you know we call her that?” Suspicion all but strangled my words.

We were not allowed to use the children’s names up here, we had to use their numbers in case there was a nosy outsider in the room who might start asking questions and, as Dr. Johnson had pointed out, most of these geneticists never got to see their creations, let alone know the christian names the nurses had given them.

“I…” he blinked twice, suddenly nervous.

_Oh, Valeria. Obviously..._

“It was nurse Valeria, right?” I smiled, rolling my eyes. “Don’t worry, she’s my friend” I whispered confidentially.

“Yes, well... you caught us.” he said through a nervous laugh, then cleared his throat and took the box from my hands.

“Do you need anything else?” I asked, changing the subject, and he let out a sigh --a sigh of relief, probably.

“Actually, yes. Could you please retrieve Lau… X-23’s file?" he quickly corrected himself. Valeria was impossible, she shouldn't be talking to him about the kids. "First door, black desk, second drawer.”

“Right” I muttered before I set off down the corridor.

Minutes later I was standing in a small and cold room. Just two desks, wall shelves, and file organizers. I walked over to the black desk and rummaged through the second drawer before pulling out Laura's file --I'd looked at it hundreds of times. I was about to leave the room when something caught my eye: a pink box on one of the shelves labelled ‘Videos’.

I hesitated, biting my lip.

My heartbeat sped up a few ticks as I quickly grabbed the box and opened it. It was full of USB storage devices. I took out a couple and stuffed them into my pocket before I put the box back on the shelf. The lid was coated with dust, like it hadn’t been manipulated in a very long time. _They won’t notice._ I thought to myself as I closed the door behind me.

After delivering Laura’s file and wishing Tom a nice day, I went back down to the underground facility to pick up Laura from the X-ray room. 

I found her at Dr. Johnson’s office, sucking on a cherry lollipop and happily chattering to him in perfect Spanglish about the perks of having bone claws.

"You can reach _cosas_ even if you're short" she was saying very importantly. "And I'm short"

"Well, I hope you don't use them to reach forbidden things" The doctor said, amused, as he checked some paperwork.

Laura shook her head, not very convincingly.

I let out a laugh and waited for her to finish her treat --it wasn’t every day that she got to eat candy-- before wiping her mouth clean and saying goodbye to the kind pediatrician.

We took the stairs and then walked at a leisurely pace along the empty corridor. Laura did not fall silent until we had almost reached the training rooms. 

"Was it fun seeing your skeleton on the X-Ray plates?" I asked, trying to steer her mind to other things. But I could not take her mind from her fears and when we reached the door I felt the familiar tightening of her hand on mine, and I tightened my own grip in reassurance.

There was an armed guard blocking the door. I wasn’t allowed inside, so I reluctantly handed the girl over to him. "Have a good session, _hermosa_ " I whispered to Laura as she entered the room.

One whole wall of the training room was a sheet of plate glass, through which could be seen a white space with training dummies. Donald Pierce was standing a few feet from me watching the session, arms clutched across his chest. I moved to stand by his side and then glanced in. Five or six children were lined up in silence on the far side of the room, as the coach --a compact, muscular man with a whistle swinging from his neck by a silver chain-- motioned Laura to stand in the middle of the room.

“Welcome, X-23. Stand over there and show me move 67.” The coach ordered Laura. He didn't even let her stretch or drink water first. For him, every single second in these rooms counted.

Laura obeyed without another moment wasted, transforming herself into the weapon they wanted to see. She stalked forward, baring her teeth, blood trailing down her hands as she unsheathed her claws. The innocent child who asked about parks and sunny skies had just dissapeared without a trace.

“Wonderful!” The coach exclaimed. The tiny girl was impossibly quick and skilled. “Now show me move 88, 76 and 32 three times in a row!” 

There was a muttered rumble of appreciation from the watching kids. Laura wasn't subtle, she always fought with the reckless abandon of someone who has the power to heal any wound instantly. She was always focused, watching and listening to what others couldn't see.

“Watch your left wrist when you throw punches, you’re twisting it in a weird way." The coach corrected her. "…yes, that’s better.”

His voice was becoming louder, faster, and angrier as he shouted the complex instructions to the girl, even as her instinctive snarls filled the room.

“Keep your head up, there’s nothing for you on the floor --don't lose your target!" 

“…flip…and claws out!” 

“Let’s do it again. You’re taking your sweet time and it has to be a lot faster!” 

“Don’t think about it, just do it!... C'mon, again!"

"Don't look at me!... Eyes on the target, damn it!" 

“Like that…don’t lose it…stab the dummy…now!”

Laura was getting furious, drops of blood were dripping from her knuckles and her face was covered in a thin layer of sweat. She was gasping for breath, eyeing the bottles of water stacked in one of the corners. She wasn’t allowed to take a break, she wasn't allowed to take a sip of water or catch her breath. The rest of the children were watching with anxious eyes. Laura was always pushed too hard, a lot harder than the rest. Sometimes they drove her out of control, just to test her limits.

“She’s awesome. _Wolverina_ knows how to put on a show” Pierce suddenly said through a smirk, looking at Laura. “And that coach has one big pair of balls. I wouldn’t go near her if she was fucking staring at me like that.”

“He does." I muttered, and before I even realized what I was saying I added, "Unlike your men. They like to torture little girls when they can’t defend themselves”

At this, Pierce's face went hard and flat. “Watch your mouth, Gabriela. Who was it and what did he do?” he demanded, finally turning his eyes to me.

Summoning all my reserves of courage, I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “He was supposed to be watching Laura in the dark cell the day she killed the coach, but instead, he thought it would be fun to hurt her with the stun gun and tell her that she’s having _that_ surgery in a few days." I said "I thought you weren’t allowed to tell your men the things you hear during _those_ meetings.” I added nonchalantly, suppresing a devilish grin.

Donald Pierce stared at me. He was pale and blodless, and perfectly still, a strange expression showing on his face. It was an expression that I had never seen on his face before; it was an expression of fear. He opened his filthy mouth to say something, and then closed it again.

 _Who’s the 'mutie' now?_ I innerly smiled.

“I… Bonebraker!” He finally shouted, his angry voice shattering the corridor's silence. 

Seconds later, a grave, slow-moving figure appeared out of nowhere.

“Yes, Sir?” The bear-like man said. His bold, overeager manner, his desire to please, was irritating.

“Go fetch that new fucker with the orange hair.” Pierce spat, barely looking at the hitman. He was fuming, quivering with anger.

“Yes, Sir.”

The hitman disappeared down the corridor, but in less than two minutes he was back with the monster who had tormented Laura a couple of nights back. My stomach curled with a certain amount of disgust as I looked at his crooked teeth, his small eyes, his sweaty and dirty and sticky skin that gave off an unpleasant smell. My anger spiked as I remembered that they'd locked up Laura in a crummy room with him for more than ten hours.

“Drop your weapon and go into that fucking room.” Pierce ordered the man through gritted teeth, jerking his head toward the door. His voice strained as he fought to control his anger. "Let's see if you're so brave and chatty when the little bitch isn't handcuffed." he added under his breath.

The man strode forward and looked through the plate-glass window. Terror seized him as he saw Laura throwing kicks and shredding the dummies to pieces with her bone claws. “But why…” he began, and then faltered, a drop of sweat slowly sliding down his temple. "No, I didn't...that girl-" he tried again, but Pierce cut him off.

“NOW!” he shouted, fury glowing in his eyes.

The Reaver flinched and put his weapon on the floor before going cautiously into the room. He looked over his shoulder twice to check if Pierce was being serious or if it was only a sick joke. 

Once the hitman was inside, Pierce moved to the window and leaned down to speak through the small microphone attached to the glass “Coach Rodriguez” His voice echoed in the other room. “You can leave now, thank you.”

Coach Rodriguez looked up at him, confused, then nodded and left the room without asking any questions. 

“Did I give anyone permission to move?” Pierce said sternly as some of the children were walking over to the back door or moving to pick up the water bottles. "And did I say you could leave the room?" he added, checking all the faces. No one had an answer. 

My heart thumped unevenly as Pierce waved Laura forward.

“ _Laura_ …” he began through a smirk, pronouncing her name in Spanish, savoring the word. I dropped my gaze and shook my head, knowing that this was going to be the second slap of the day. “ _Laura, Laura_...look at me, babe. Do you know this man?” he asked, jerking his head toward the hitman in front of her.

The girl blinked once and turned her eyes to the man. He was trying to get as far from the child as he could, his back against the wall. Laura stared at the frightened man, but there was no hatred or resentment in her eyes. She looked lost and vulnerable. Her long-sleeved shirt was ripped, her shoes and hands were covered in blood, a strand of hair was sticking to her hot, sweaty cheek.

"Laura..." Pierce's voice came again over the loudspeaker, but Laura remained silent, barely breathing, barely blinking. "Do you know this man?" he asked again, looking at her wildly. The tension in the room was increasing, even Pierce was shifting his weight nervously from one foot to another.

“Answer me. Do you know this man?” he insisted, losing his patience. "Do YOU!" 

“ _Señor_ Pierce, please, you know that she can’t spe…” I began anxiously, my gaze flickering to Laura and then back to his face.

“Shut up!!”

I flinched as he shouted the words in my face. He was running a hand through his hair impatiently, eyes closed, cursing under his breath.

“One more time, _Laura_. Do-you-know-this-man?” he hissed.

 _Answer him, baby. Answer him, please,_ I prayed. The rest of the kids had gone quiet, simply watching their overwhelmed friend. I felt a tremendous weight of guilt. I shouldn't have opened my mouth. Laura looked at me, silently asking for help. She didn't understand what was happening. The terrified hitman. A furious Donald Pierce. The interrupted training session. My presence.

"Look at me when I talk to you!" Pierce startled her attention back to him. "Do you know this _motherfucker_ , Laura!" he shouted into the mic. The children flinched and instinctively covered their ears. 

Laura hesitated, and then finally gave a stiff nod.

“Fine" Pierce said, relaxing his shoulders and stretching his neck. "Did he hurt you, baby?”

Laura nodded again if only to spare us one of his tantrums.

“Where?” he asked as his frown changed to a grin of satisfaction.

Laura pointed to her neck and chest with a shaky hand.

He dropped his head and shook it disapprovingly, feigning empathy. “Well..." his voice trailed off, and then his smile broadened as he lifted his head. "Hurt him back.”

At this I threw myself between the glass and him. “ _Señor_ Pierce… _por favor_ …no…please!” I cried.

He got hold of my shoulder with his robotic hand and squeezed it painfully. “One more word, Gabriela, and I’ll get you fired!” he threatened me through his teeth.

My heart dropped into my stomach. I felt like Pierce was stealing her from me, turning her into another person, one I didn't recognize. I wanted _my_ Laura back. I wanted to tell her to look at me. I wanted to tell her not to do it. I didn’t want her to become a murderer once more. Not out of vengeance. Not like this.

“Laura…you still with us _mutie?_ ” Pierce asked mockingly. He was making my blood boil, I just couldn't stand when he bullied her and made her feel worthless.

Laura was in shock, experiencing a fight or flight reaction, they'd never made her kill someone this way. Most of the time they would cruely tease her like a _matador_ teases a bull to wake the beast within her. But this was different, the man in front of her was on his knees, begging her to spare his life, helpless without his gun despite his size and strenght. He knew he was no match for this agile girl with sharp bones jutting out of her hands and feet.

“Kill him." Pierce growled, breathing heavily and slicing his eyes through Laura, as if daring her to disobey.

The hitman's eyes flashed up to Laura's face in terror. He was crying, mumbling something about a son.

Rictor swallowed hard and shot me a panicked glance from the other side of the room, silently asking for my permission to intervene, to save his little friend, _his family_. I shook my head. If he stepped in, Pierce would punish them both.

“NOW!” Pierce shouted, rage in his eyes. He was out of his mind, out of control. I'd never seen him so angry.

“Kill him or I'll lock you down in that fucking dark cell for a month!” 

"Kill him or you'll never see your friends again!"

"Kill him or I'll make sure you never leave this hellish place!

“Kill him now!” he shouted, punching the glass with a robotic fist.

Laura bared her teeth and growled. There was a scream of fury, followed by a hundred more, as something inside her suddenly jumped to the surface and clouded her mind. The man coughed up blood, he cried, he struggled to breathe, he tried to get up, but it was all useless. _She_ was coming for him again. It was hard to watch, but even harder to look away.

And then the world fell silent.

Charlotte was covering her eyes. Delilah was frozen. Rictor was looking down, hand over his mouth. Little Tomás was sobbing. _Pierce was smiling._

"I'm a fair man, Gabriela." he finally muttered. His voice calm and steady, all fury long forgotten.

The hitman had just gotten cruelly slain by his victim. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Dream", Priscilla Ahn.


	4. Superheroes

****"When you've been fighting for it all your life**  
 **You've been struggling to make things right**  
 **That's how a superhero learns to fly...** "

The next morning I slept late and woke to the usual din of birdsong. I felt worse than when I had gone to sleep. I stood in my underwear and examined the selection of clothes in my closet, most of them were worn -- _I never had the time or the energy to go shopping_. I took out a white shirt and my most comfortable pants. I sat in the kitchen for quite a long time drinking coffee and watching the contents of the USB devices I'd stolen - _borrowed._ I would return them as soon as I had a copy on my laptop.

For a while it stopped raining, then it resumed, a heavier downpour. In ten hours I would be leaving the apartment, collar up, umbrella held high. The memory sticks didn't contain anything interesting, anything I hadn’t seen before with my own eyes, just random footage of the children and the facility: Joey pushing dummies with his powers, then pushing the coach and the person holding the camera; children being miserable in their cells, neglected birthing rooms.

It was almost lunch time when I finally turned off the laptop and strode into the kitchen. I ate slowly, lost in thought. Solitude was encouraging in me small superstitions. Magical thinking found ways of rationalazing my plan. It would be an act of faith in the children's innocence. To trust in a comic book would demonstarte that we were not yet beaten. 

I would keep a copy of the videos. _Now I knew what I had to do._  
I would trust the stranger who'd sent me the box. _I knew what they wanted me to do_.  
I would talk Valeria and María into helping me. _They were good people._  
I would set the children free someday. _Eden…there was an Eden_  
I would find _him_ , show him all she’d been through. He would help her and love her then.  
I didn’t know _when_. But I was beginning to figure out _how_. 

And I would do all this in joy rather than sorrow, and if some of these things cost me pain, then the pain would constitute a necessary sacrifice. _What had I to lose?_

+++++

I rang the bell of the building's superintendent's office to gain entrance into the locked building. It was dark, the rain had ceased, and the wind blew, freezing my damp clothes. A few minutes later the superintendent arrived and opened the outer door of the lobby. Personal objects such as loose change, phones, keys, and wallets were confiscated and returned later. However, my phone was staying with me from now on -- _they had stopped checking my bag a long time ago_. That’s the good thing about always following the rules: people eventually come to think that you won’t ever break them.

The elevator door opened and once again I found myself penetrating deep into the underground facility, knowing without giving the matter a thought which staircases and corridors to take, as I savored the weight of the comic books in my bag. I soon arrived at the nurses' station and met a questioning glance from Valeria, who was having a snack break.

“ _¡Gaby! ¿Qué haces aquí?"_ Valeria asked through a frown as I was hanging my coat. "You’re early…three hours early. I thought you hated night shifts. Are you starting to love them so much that you can’t even wait to switch places with me?” she joked, taking a bite of her granola bar.

I shook my head and smiled, changing into a dry cardigan. _“No, amiga._ _Es que quise llegar antes de que volviera a llover_. You know how crazy this city becomes when it rains, and I didn't want to get stuck in a traffic jam and be late”

“What! It's raining up there!" she exclaimed, letting her arms fall in defeat.

Mexico City’s rain magically creates cars on highways and avenues; leaves clog the drains and some streets become navigable rivers.

"I hate this _shithole_ , you never know what's going on outside!" she complained through a sip of ice tea.

“It stopped, but it won't be long before it resumes.” I replied through a heavy sigh. “Leave while you still have time, _amiga,_ or you'll never make it home. I’ll put the children to bed for you”

At this, her eyes widened. “ _¿En serio?_ ”

“Yes, really.” I nodded, a bit amused by the expression on her face. “Go home” 

She leapt up so violently that the chair topppled backwards. "Thank you, thank you, thank you" she said repeatedly before grabbing her coat and rushing out the room, the bottle of ice tea left behind on the table.

Giving the children a shower and putting them to bed was a tiresome job, but I needed the extra time with Laura. That was why I’d arrived early --not because of the rain. I needed to talk to her privately.

  
9:55pm.

  
By now, the facility was empty, except for me and the two Reavers upstairs ‘watching’ the entrance. They never checked on us because they knew that nurses could manage the children's behavior pretty well --a lot better than any of them-- so I was sure nobody would bother us tonight.

I walked down the abandoned and ice cold corridors. The air felt stangnant. The space felt too vast. I snuck into Laura’s cell. She was already asleep, adorable and cocooned in a blue duvet. The exhausting daily training had sent her into a deep slumber. I studied her dreaming face for a moment, an enjoyable warmth filling my chest. When Laura slept, all traces of bitterness and defensiveness disappeared and she turned into a little angel. I bit down on my bottom lip and took out my phone before I recorded her for a few seconds. This kind of footage could be useful for the video diaries I'd just started.

  
10pm

  
The lights went out and I put the phone back into my pocket, then lowered myself onto the edge of the bed.

“ _¿Laura?_ ” I whispered, shaking her gently. “Laura, open your eyes.”

She grunted and rolled over. Laura usually woke up at the drop of a hat; they’d trained her that way. But there’s only so much you can ask from Nature and she was still a child. Exhausted children are hard to wake.

“ _Laura. Despierta, nena_ ” I murmured, as I slowly pulled the blanket off of her and squeezed her hot hand. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath even and still. 

“Mmm…" Laura grunted once more, dragging her lids back to stare at me with bleary eyes. I pulled her up into a sitting position and gently brushed her hair away from her eyes. _"¿Ya es hora del training?_ ” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes, trying to shake off the stupor. I felt a tug on my heart, training was all she ever thought about. She never had time to be a kid.

“No. It’s too early for that. _Y se dice_ _‘entrenamiento_ ’.” I whispered as Laura tried to focus on reality. I quickly took off my cardigan and bent to put it on her. _“Ven, vamos_.” 

“ _¿A dónde?_ ” Laura asked, groggy and irritated, as I buttoned the cardigan and rolled up the sleeves to free her hands.

“Shhhh. Come on” I shushed her. Her slippers were nowhere to be found and she never went to bed wearing socks, so I carried her --I wouldn’t make her walk on the hard and cold floor all the way down to my room.

“ _¿A dónde vamos?_ ” she muttered into my neck, legs wrapped around my waist.

“To my room.” I replied, as we walked past the other cells. All her friends were fast asleep.

“ _¿Por qué?_ ” she pressed, becoming more alert. Our voices were louder here, echoing in the empty corridor. I felt nervous and short of breath, like a schoolgirl breaking the rules. Nurses were not allowed to take the test subjects out of their cells without permission.

“ _No seas tan preguntona, hija._ ” I said. “You’ll see.”

After what seemed like an eternity, we finally reached my room. I pushed the door open and put Laura down.

“ _Ven_. I’ve got something for you” I said through a smile as I reached out for my bag.

And just like any child, her eyes widened --exhaustion long forgotten-- the instant she heard those words.

“ _¿Qué cosa?_ ” she asked eagerly as I rummaged through my bag, her eyes flickering from me to the bag and back again with obvious excitement. Catching her gaze, I bit back a smile. In her limited world, a present usually meant a chocolate bar, a sticker, or some tiny toy the security staff would eventually take away from her. I quit giving her the latter after Pierce confiscated a small My Little Pony figure four years ago and she cried for days. The waiting room was the only place where the children were allowed to play with toys or read story books.

I finally found the comic books and took them out. Laura's curiosity piqued and she took a step forward.

“ _¿Te acuerdas que me preguntaste qué es un cómic?_ " I asked. She nodded, staring at the comic, fixating on the colorful cover. “Well, I brought some of them so you could see them with your own eyes." I said, spreading them out on the bed. "Come sit here with me.”

She plopped down on the bed and I put an arm around her and she rested her head on my shoulder. There was happiness about her all the while. One of Laura’s favorite things in the world was listening to stories.

“Woooow! _¿Esos son los superhéroes_?” Laura exclaimed, pointing to the illustrated faces and leaning forward as I opened the comic. 

“Shhh, don’t shout” I said through a laugh, pinching her cheek playfully. “Yes, these are superheroes. You remembered, well done.”

“ _¿Son los buenos, verdad?_ ” she asked excitedly. I knew she was going to love this. She was over the moon.

“ _Sí_ , they’re the good ones.” I confirmed. “And you can be like them too if you want.” I added through a shrug of my shoulders. Laura frowned and her dark brown eyes looked up at me with skepticism.

I smiled and closed the comic book for a moment before meeting her eyes. “Laura, do you know what makes someone a hero?” I inquired, studying her face.

She glanced down at the comic before replying, _“No_ ” 

“It’s when a person does the right thing at the right moment despite their fears, the consequences, or what other people might think of them. Heroes are courageous and brave.” I whispered, and at this, her frown deepened.

Laura was a very smart kid, but she’d been trapped in a bubble her whole life. There were many things that escaped her imagination, many concepts she ignored; her experience was quite limited and she was constantly getting mixed messages from the people around her. No matter how much effort I put into it, I could never accurately describe to her things like the smell of the rain, or the feeling of the sun on the skin --let alone moral concepts like good or bad. Nevertheless, it was my duty to open up her mind and invite her to question everything she learned. 

_“Cómo tú_ ” she finally said, with great confidence.

I smiled and bent my face toward her to plant a tiny kiss on her nose _._ _“Mi niña linda._ ” I muttered. “I’m not a hero at all, but thank you.”

Laura smirked and opened the comic book, flipping through the pages. She was strangely relaxed.

“And do you know why they’re called SUPERheroes?" I asked. Something about the way she was looking at the pages had me smiling slightly.

She shook her head absently, scanning the faces of the characters. _“No”_

“Because they have special powers!" I whispered confidentially. At this, she straightened her back and looked up at me through raised eyebrows. "And they use them to help others! Sometimes they even save the world! Everybody wants to be a superhero..." I muttered as a smile formed on Laura's face.

" _¡En serio!"_ she murmured, glancing back at the colorful pages, tracing her little fingers on the pictures. Her innocent eyes had a special spark I’d never seen before. These children had felt like monsters their whole lives; creatures unworthy of love, freaks that were destined to be hated and feared by the rest of the world. Now, someone was telling her that it didn’t have to be like that, that she was not cursed, but gifted. And most importantly, that there had been others like her before.

“See that?” I said, pointing to the characters. “Each hero has their own suit. Do you like them?” I was truly grinning now.

 _“Sí, muchísimo_. _Ojalá yo tuviera ropa así de bonita."_ she murmured, comparing the fashion forward outfits to her own plain white clothes. _"¿Quién es esta?_ ” she inquired through a tilt of her head, turning to me, as she pointed to a beautiful, red-haired woman. 

I only smiled. Thankfully, I had done my research. “That's Phoenix...and that guy over here is Cyclops” I explained. Laura made a face. She might have been living in a lab her whole life but she knew well enough that ‘Cyclops’ was no name for a person.

“ _¿A poco así se llaman? Qué raro…_ ” she muttered, glancing down at the beautiful young man with red, weird-looking sunglasses.

“No” I laughed. “These are not their real names. They chose them for themselves because they match their special powers or personality.” I said before carefully adding, “In fact, do you know the name of their… _team_?” 

_“No, ¿Cómo se llaman?”_ she inquired, desperate to learn everything about these superheroes.

“They’re called _The X-Men"_ I said, reading every single unconscious play of emotion on her face.

Laura glanced around the room, trying to put her finger on something.

“X?" she repeated thoughtfully _"¿Se llaman como yo?_ _¿Como nosotros?_ ” The girl finally asked, putting the pieces together.

Perfect. Such a clever girl.

“Well, your name is not 'X-23-whatever' --and you know it--" I said, my expression mildly dissaproving. "Your name is--?”

 _“Laura_ ” she answered with confidence, finishing my sentence.

“That’s correct.” I muttered, smiling fondly into the big eyes looking up at me. “But yeah, they’re like you and the other children, _they're mutants._ That’s why they have that name. Some of these X-Men even have the same mutations as Bobby, Delilah... or you”

It was as if I’d told her I was taking her to _Parque México_ tomorrow to walk a puppy, her face was suddenly alive with surprise and joy.

“ _¡Como yo! ¡Quién! ¡Dime!_ ” Laura demanded, her voice bubbling with excitement as she moved to bounce on the bed, clasping the comic book tightly in her hand.

I stared, bitting my lip, at Laura's huge smile. The time had come, she was about to know where she'd come from.

I took the comic book from her hands and put it away, then got hold of her and put her gently on the floor. She stood between my knees, looking at me impatiently, as I held her little hands in mine.

 _Ok, Gabriela, take a deep breath..._ I instructed myself.

“ _Laura_ … _mi vida_ …" I began, looking her straight in the eyes. "I…I brought you here tonight because there’s something you need to know. Something very important.”

 _“¿Qué?_ ” she asked. Her smile hadn’t faded, she was obviously expecting more good news. 

My gaze softened and my lower lip began to tremble. “You are not an orphan" I confessed. My heart was hammering against my chest, a mixture of fear and excitement thumping through my veins. "You have a dad.” 

Her smile instantly vanished, for a moment surprise flashed across her face, then it was replaced by a deep frown. 

_“¿Un papá?"_ she repeated. The word sounded foreign coming from her, it was not something she was used to saying. _"¿Cómo?”_ Laura asked, tilting her head to the side. She looked adorably confused.

“ _Sí, un papito._ ” I muttered, stroking her warm cheek --physical contact always helped her to stay calm. “You would call him _daddy_ because he speaks English.”

The unexpected revelation had Laura staring at me in suspicion. She was scrutinizing me, her eyes moving across my face cautiously, trying to find the catch. I felt mildly intimidated, Laura's gaze was hostile at times, even when that wasn't her intention.

For a long, long moment the silence in the room was stunning. Finally, though, Laura spoke.

 _“¿Y por qué habla inglés?”_ she asked, crossing her arms. 

I was so taken aback by her question that my mouth dropped open and I could not immediately answer. _Really?_ I'd just told her that she had a DAD and she wanted to know why he spoke English? 

I sighed and shook my head, pulling a smile in response to her cute question. “Because he’s from Canada.” I replied simply. “You know where that is, you’re good at reading maps.”

Her eyes flickered unwillingly away from my face for one second to the wall, and then back to me. She was yet not able to comprehend what I was telling her.

 _“¿Y por qué me trajo aquí?”_ Laura suddenly inquired, accusingly, looking confused and hurt. She tended to jump to conclusions too quickly.

“ _¿Cómo?_ No, no!...no…your dad didn’t bring you here.” I rushed to clarify, taking hold of her shoulders, before biting my lip in guilt. “He… he doesn’t even know that you exist, _amor._ ” I admitted in an anxious, low voice, hoping that she couldn’t notice the heaviness in my heart.

 _“¡Por qué!"_ Laura demanded bitterly, pushing my arms away and taking a step back, her confusion rapidly turning into anger. Maybe that was a good sign, it meant that her unexpected change of status was slowly sinking in.

“ _Porque_ …because you were not... _made_ the traditional way" I tried to explain. "You were conceived here, in a lab, with the help of scientists.” She already kinda knew the last part, Pierce had made sure to call the kids ‘experiments’ in their faces more times than I cared to remember. But what he'd never told them was what that actually meant. Her innocent mind probably believed that the scientists here made children out of objects or substances, just like Professor Utonium from _The Powerpuff Girls_.

Laura pondered my words for a few seconds, taking in my anguished face. _“¿Cuál es la manera tradicional?”_ she asked at last through narrowed eyes.

_Shit._

“The traditional way is... is when mommy and daddy make the baby themselves --but that’s a whole different conversation which doesn’t matter right now. _Mira..._ ” 

Tired of games, I snatched up one of the comic books and flipped through the pages. " _¿Ves a este hombre de aquí?_ ” I asked impatiently, pointing at a picture of Wolverine.

 _“Sí”_ Laura muttered, taking a step forward, her anger diminishing.

“That’s you dad. They call him Logan or Wolverine, but his real name is James Howlett. That’s your name too. You have a REAL name. You’re Laura Howlett, OK?” I said, desperate to make her understand that she had an identity.

Laura was thinking hard, or making a show of it.

 _"¿Y por qué no Laura Wolverine?"_ she finally asked, bitting on the nail of her thumb.

I sighed through frustration. "Because that's not his real name!! Are you even listening to me?" I didn’t mean to sound so irritated, but she wasn’t even making an effort to collaborate. 

Laura gave a shrug in response, and I audibly groaned and pulled her onto my lap.

“Look here!” I practically shouted, placing the comic book on her knees. “Do you see that? He has claws like yours, see?” I said, bringing up one of her hands. “He has three, and you have two...and... and..." I trailed off, then sighed and let go of her hand with a gesture of defeat. _"Never mind"_ I murmured, burying my head in my hands.

She watched me silently for a moment, then frowned and slowly turned her eyes to the page. “ _Papá es_ Wolverine” she muttered to herself, taking in the illustrated face of Logan. 

“ _¡Sí, sí!_ Exactly!” I exclaimed, lifting my head, as a wave of triumph rushed through my body. She was starting to get it. _Thank God._

 _“Pero sus garras no son como las mías, esas son como de metal o algo así”_ she pointed out, running her index finger over Logan's adamantium claws.

I nodded, but said nothing, bracing myself for the second part of the conversation.

“Yes, about that…mmm…” I hesitated, and then spoke slowly, choosing my words with care. “That metal you see there is called adamantium, his claws were just like yours until… until Dr. Rice’s father coated his whole skeleton with that substance." At this, Laura lifted her gaze to my face, looking for answers. My stomach lurched.

"It’s the story that man told you in the 'icebox' the other day.” I added quietly.

Laura did not miss the fear and guilt in my voice. She said nothing for a moment, then dropped her gaze quickly to the white floor, suddenly understanding why I was telling her all this.

 _“Pero tú dijiste que las historias de los comics no eran verdad y ahora me dices que sí...”_ she whispered harshly, refusing to look at me.

I sighed. She thought I’d betrayed her. Laura was a very emotionally sensitive girl. It didn’t take much to make her angry or hurt her feelings. The concept of ‘midpoint’ was nonexistent to her most of the time.

“Yes, I know what I said. And I swear I didn’t mean to lie to you, baby.” I said, stroking her cheek with the back of my hand. “But not everything in comic books is just a story. Some things _did_ happen. In fact, I believe most of these things are real. Your dad is real, and his friends are real too… maybe some of these adventures are not. We can’t know for sure what happened and what didn’t.”

Laura stared at her hands for one short moment, and then she brought her claws out, drops of blood staining her knuckles. _“Entonces el Dr. Rice me va a hacer lo mismo a mí, ¿verdad?”_ she asked hopelessly.

I gently lifted her chin to look down into her agonized eyes. She was on the verge of tears, her upper lip trembling in anguish. It broke my heart to see Laura like this, but I couldn’t lie to her.

 _“Sí, mi amor_. Dr. Rice wants to do the same thing to you" I admitted "But not like that. They will only coat you claws and not your whole skeleton because you need to grow up, and you won’t feel a thing because you’ll be asleep…and I'll be by your side the whole time. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

She fell silent once more, staring at me with unseeing, watery eyes. I could see her pain, her strength. 

"Come on, baby, retract your claws. I know it hurts when they're out" I said, desperate to change the subject. To know that I was being used to contribute to that pain made me feel terribly angry and guilty.

She nodded silently and retracted her bone claws. I took a couple of tissues out of my bag and wiped the blood off her hands before kissing her knuckles and forehead. The gesture must have helped her get a grip on herself because she looked up at me and, for a moment, she seemed to go back to her old self, all her worries forgotten. Laura had a pleasant face, more so when she appeared happy.

“Gabriela…” she trailed off, staring lovingly at me.

 _“¿Qué, bebé?”_ I asked tenderly, pushing that wild, dark hair out of her eyes.

 _“Tú eres mi mamá”_ she muttered as her smile warmed on her face.

My heart skipped a beat and I felt a strange emotion clogging my throat. _'You are my mom'._ Her words were certainly melting my heart, but they were also a reminder that our conversation wasn't finished yet.

“I...yes, baby girl… I’m...I'm _like_ a mom to you.” I replied, my voice breaking twice as I gulped back the lump in my throat and brushed the tears away from my eyes, wrapping my arms around her, holding her close. “I raised you…I couldn’t love you more had you been my own child…but....” I hesitated, and she pulled back to stare at my face. “But you had a mom before… You were born from her belly…and her heart.” I whimpered as I recalled the story Valeria had told me years ago.

Laura took in my expression as the tears continued to ooze from the corner of my eyes. She had never seen me cry before.

“Do you know why I’m telling you this?” I asked, cupping her face in my hands.

“No” she murmured, gazing into my eyes. 

“Because she deserves the most beautiful and special place in your heart. She deserves it more than anyone else…even more than me.” 

It was painful to tell her this, but it was also the right thing to do. I owed it to her mom. As much as I wanted Laura to be mine, she was _her_ little girl and we had to honor her memory.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?” I asked softly, stroking her hair. She stared at me for a long moment and then gave a nod.

 _“Entonces si tú no eres mi mami ¿Dónde está mi mamá de verdad?_ _¿Quién es?”_ Laura inquired, her brows pulled together. 

There they were, the questions I was fearing the most. _Who is my mom then?_ _Where is she?_ I couldn’t tell her the whole truth, she’d had more than her fair share of sad endings already. 

_“¿También es de Canadá? ¿Tampoco sabe que nací?”_ Laura pressed, noticing my hesitation. 

I pretended to be oblivious to her scrutiny as I struggled to find answers that her mind could handle. 

“No, your mom is not Canadian. She is from Mexico City - _Chilanga_ \- just like you.” I finally said, cowardly choosing to answer the easiest of her questions.

At this, Laura gave a sad little smile and I knew what was going through her mind. She was picturing her _mamá_ in all those parks, streets, and plazas I’d described for her so many times. 

“Oh, and a Spanish-speaker, in case you were about to ask” I teased her, and she made a noise that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh.

 _"¿Y cómo es mi mami?"_ she asked. Her voice was calm and quiet. Talking about her mother seemed to be helping her heal some of her invisible wounds.

“Well, she is… _was_ … very beautiful" I muttered. Laura was listening intently, afraid to miss even one word. "You look a lot like her, you know? Same hair, same complexion, same eye color and nose.” I smiled.

It would have been easy to google the name of her mother and print a picture for Laura to keep. But I couldn’t bring myself to look at the “Missing Person” images. Not yet.

 _"¿Cómo sabes todo eso?”_ Laura asked, beaming with curiosity.

“I know all this because a nurse that used to work here knew her" I began "Your mom gave birth right here, in Transigen. It was her who named you Laura. She chose that name specially for you, _muñequita linda_.” I said sadly, tracing a finger over the unblemished skin on her face, knowing full well that, had this disgusting company not stepped in, Laura wouldn't be here right now. “It means _victory_ and _strength_ ; did you know that?”

“No” she whispered, as she closed her eyes and laid her ear over my shoulder. 

There was a moment of pure silence, a homely, unawkward silence. 

“Gabriela?" Laura asked calmly. 

“Mmm?” I mumbled, letting my cheek press against her forehead.

 _“¿También me parezco a él?”_ she asked, lifting her face to lock my gaze in hers.

She wanted to know if she had something in common with Logan too --apart from the claws. Laura was slowly realizing that she hadn't come from nothing, that she was _human_. 

“ _Sí, muchísimo_. You’re every bit your daddy’s girl" I replied with confidence, although I knew very little about the man behind the comic character. "You have the very same kind heart and the very same fire in you, I’m sure.”

She smiled proudly for a moment, marveling at how important she was, before her thoughts turned darker.

 _“¿Por qué mi mamá se fue de aquí sin mí?”_ Laura murmured. Her voice was so low I wasn't sure I heard her right.

Laura was an exceptionally perceptive girl, very observant, very intelligent, she had the ability to pick up on subtle information; and even though I was trying my best to hide the unpleasant details about her story, somehow she realized that her parents never meant for her to exist. _That they didn't want her._

 _If I have parents, why aren't they here? Didn’t they love me? Was there something wrong with me? Was I not good enough? Why did my mom leave this place without me?_ These were some of the questions I could read in her eyes. Her limited experience and delayed emotional development didn’t allow her to see that the situation wasn’t that simple.

“ _No, mi cielo. Ella no te hizo eso"_ I began "Your mom didn’t leave this place without you. She got very sick after giving birth and passed away.”

A frown darkened her childish face. She obviously knew I was lying to her. However, telling her that her mom had been abducted, used, and killed by Transigen --that she was the product of several violent acts-- was out of the question.

“Listen to me, Laura.” I said, catching her face securely between my hands, desperate to quell her insecurities. “You mom loved you very, very much. More than anything else in the whole world. And wherever she is now, she’s still looking after you. You are loved, Laura, you are.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. Laura didn’t like crying in front of others, she thought it made her weak. I was one of the few people that she let in. 

"Come here, it's ok" I muttered, taking her in my arms when she finally gave way to the tears she was holding back. _“Llora, mi amor_. Those are happy tears. You just found out that you have a family, it's ok to feel overwhelmed" 

She nodded and sobbed against my shoulder, tears gushing down her cheeks, as joy overcame the hardness she forced most of the time into both voice and manner. 

++++++++++++++++++++++

Laura didn't want the night to be over, she begged me to let her stay with me a little longer reading the comic books. Even if I knew she would only be getting a couple of hours sleep I couldn't say _no_. Her eyes lit with a gleam of excitment every time _Wolverine_ unsheathed his claws and more than once I had to remenind her to keep her voice down. I was mentally preparing to stay up all night reading with her when she began to yawn.

Laura's eyes were drooping as I carried her back to her cell, she was clutching two comic books tightly in her hands.

“They’re already yours, baby. But let me keep them for you, ok?” I said, taking the comics from her hands after I'd laid her down on the bed.

“ _¿Le puedo contar a Booby y a Rictor de los X-Men?”_ Laura whispered. 

“Of course you can! You can tell your friends all about the X-Men.” I muttered as I straightened her clothes and pulled the blanket over her. “We can even take the comics to the waiting room sometimes and read them with the other children.”

 _"¡Sí!"_ she exclaimed before her hand flew to her mouth, suddenly remembering to whisper. " _¿Mi daddy es muy bueno y muy valiente, verdad?”_ _._

 _Mi daddy._ I smiled at her words, shaking my head slighty. " _Sí, sí, mi niña hermosa”_ I murmured, stroking her head. “He’s the kindest and bravest of them all.”

 _“¿Cuándo va a venir por mí?”_ Laura inquired, clutching the blankets to her chest, frowning.

I stared down at her expectant face. I should have guessed that after learning about her father's existence, Laura would want him to come for her.

“He can’t come get you, sweetie. He doesn't know about you yet, remember?” I muttered. “But you’ll meet him one day, I promise. Now go to sleep.”

She nodded, then rolled over and closed her eyes. I leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead and made sure she was warm enough before turning around. I stopped to look at her once last time as I closed the door. The sight was breathtaking. For the first time in her life, Laura Howlett was smiling in her sleep as if her own parents had just tucked her up in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Superheroes", The Script.


	5. Adamantium

****"Oh baby, baby, it's a wild world**  
 **It's hard to get by just upon a smile...** "

It had been two weeks since Laura had found out that she had a father, and that small bit of information was working wonders with her. She seemed a little more grown up, her eyes looked wiser, and she smiled all the time as if she was keeping a secret. The X-Men were already very popular among the children thanks to her. Booby was probably the biggest fan, he wouldn’t stop chasing Laura around, sharing his theories and what ifs with her. She was very protective of her comic books but didn’t mind lending them to Bobby every time she had them with her. (I kept them in my apartment most of the time).

Sticking to my new resolution, I'd asked Laura to memorize the coordinates of Eden and tell her friends to do the same. That way, I told her, they could reunite if they ever lived in different places.

 _“Pero yo quiero vivir con ellos para siempre”_ she'd complained while I was untangling her hair in the waiting room before her training session a few days ago.

“You say that because you’re still very young, but when you all grow up, you’ll want to do different things and go to different places" I'd explained. "But if you and your friends know where Eden is, you’ll be able to go there whenever you need each other. It'll be like having a forever home.”

The explanation had convinced Laura enough to ask all the members of her big family to memorize the numbers, or at least write them down and keep the note in a safe place.

I'd also returned the USB sticks and taken a few more. They contained footage of the children being experimented on. If I was ever to take Laura to her dad I needed him to have as much information as possible about her previous life, that way, he would be able to understand her a lot better. _An image tells more than a thousand words._

Just as I expected, María and Valeria agreed that it was a good idea to have a escape plan in case things got to a point where we had no other alternative. I was deeply moved by María’s solidarity; unlike some of us, she had a son and a mother who depended entirely on her. However, she was willing to take the risk. I gave them the coordinates and showed them the comic book, just in case.

María was so determined to stand up against Pierce and the others, that she even threw a birthday party for Delilah inside the facility. She went so far as to ask Cuquita --the cook-- to bake a cake and put candles on it. I helped her decorate the waiting room with balloons. The children were delighted and we managed to take a lovely picture of them. Sadly, they never got to try the cake because Pierce and his hitmen ruined the celebration. They called Dr. Rice and he scolded María for treating the kids like human beings. I filmed the whole thing on my phone.

No news is good news, they say. But this was Transigen, and there was always bad news. It was late morning and impressively humid and hot, the unique framing of the underground facility didn't create any pleasant drafts or circulation of cool air. I was feeling nauseous as I walked down a narrow corridor toward the classrooms. It was a day that I had hoped would never come but one that I knew was inevitable: Laura's surgery. 

I'd volunteered to be one of the nurses who would assist the doctors, in the hope that my presence would help Laura to stay calm. Bright lights, faceless men, and needles are always daunting, especially for a child with trust issues and anxiety disorders. She was currently in class. Saturdays were for learning to read and write, among other things like geography or maths --basic stuff that any soldier should know.

Laura had no idea that the operation would be performed today. 

I stopped at a door in which was set a semicircular window with wired glass and pushed it open. The children were sitting on the floor, looking at a blackboard with maps, naming the cardinal points and copying them into their notebooks. Laura was not naming anything, of course, but she was paying attention. Just because someone is quiet doesn’t mean they’re stupid. The teacher was strolling around them with leisurely authority, pausing now and then to murmur criticism.

“Mr Smith. Good morning. May I have Lau... X-23, please?” I asked as I popped my head round and met the teacher's eye. At this, Laura tilted her head and smiled furtively and prettily at me through the pencil she was bitting. Our bond had become stronger since I'd shown her the comic books and told her about her parents.

“ _Laura_ , go with nurse Gabriela” The teacher said, giving me a wink. Just like many of us here, Mr. Smith found it easier to remember names than numbers.

Laura quickly jumped to her feet. She didn't dare to run, but could not quite restrain herself to walk. She half skipped, half sprinted, until she finally reached me. 

"Thank you. Mr. Smith." I muttered, smiling apologetically at him. Laura was holding my hand even before she was through the door. The teacher gave a nod and I closed the door behind us.

 _"¿Te están enseñando cosas nuevas?”_ I asked Laura as we set off down the corridor. I always encouraged her to learn normal things. _Education is a human right after all_.

She nodded, smiling, rocking my hand to and fro. There was never a day she was not happy to see me.

“And are they difficult to learn?” I inquired, steering her towards the medical unit. 

She shook her head and frowned as if I’d just offended her. Laura was emotionally stunted and her social skills were poor, but she had a high IQ, _and she knew it_. 

_“Es que tú eres una niña muy inteligente, por eso_ ” I pointed out, making up for the ‘offense’.

We kept walking at a leisurely pace, all the while I tried to keep my voice casual --if the grown up thinks something is bad and scary, so will the child.

“Listen, today being a clever girl won't be good enough" I muttered, nervousness constraining my voice despite my efforts. "You’ll have to be very brave too. Ok?”

Laura looked up at me, eyes narrowed with suspicion. I swallowed, and simply blinked at the girl, begining to rationalize every reason that I shouldn't be working for this company.

“You’re getting your adamantium claws!” I finally said, pretending to be excited but not sounding convincing even to myself. 

That did it. She suddenly stopped walking and dropped her hand from mine. I turned around to look at her, she was shaking her head fiercely through wide eyes, hands clasped behind her back. We were in a corridor, some members of the staff were walking past us, rushing from one room to another. I closed the space between us and leaned down to her level, but she cringed away. I closed my eyes as I innerly cursed myself for breaking the bad news to her in the center of the corridor. If Laura had a panic attack, the doctors would get nervous and call someone. She wasn’t exactly known among them for her sweet personality.

 _“Hey, tranquila, tranquila.”_ I soothed her, putting my hands on her waist. “We had this conversation before, remember? It’s not going to be like in the comic book, and we’re going to be together the whole time.”

She shook her head stubbornly as though she hadn’t listened to a word I said. At times like this one could easily notice Laura’s low emotional maturity. This kind of behavior belonged to a six or seven-year-old.

“Don’t make this more difficult, _mi niña_. They’re allowing me to walk you to the unit because I assured them that Pierce and his handcuffs wouldn't be necessary. But if you don’t cooperate with me, they’ll come for you.”

She was sniffing in silence, her lips trembling as she hid her face in the crook of her arm. “Hey, take deep breaths, don't cry.” I urged softly, but firmly, pulling her arm down to uncover her face. “You have to be strong like…like Wolverine! He went through all this too and he was very brave, yes?” My voice was rapid and nervous, my confidence diminishing as I lifted a hand and gently stroked her hair away from her face. “Will you be brave like him?”

Doctors, nurses, and chemists parted and converged around us as though we were a mere physical obstacle. However close they passed by us, I could not discern in the babble one intelligible phrase, but I knew they were starting to exchange wary stares. It was several seconds before Laura finally found the courage to nod and hold out her hand to me.

We resumed our walk, she was taking deep breaths, trying to keep herself calm, but as we approached the door with the sign _Anesthetic Room_ I felt her small body begining to tense.

The door opened. From our location in the corridor we could see a team of doctors and nurses standing in the room, surrounded by multiple monitors and breathing machines. They were already wearing surgical masks and robes.

The instant Laura saw them she gasped and forcefully pulled my hand, trying to make me go with her. I held my ground and quickly grabbed her wrists. At this, Laura threw herself to the floor, screaming. I tried to pull her upright, but she was so overcome by terror that she was a dead weight and, instead of getting her up, I almost fell down on top of her. 

Laura was trained to fight people three times bigger than her, she was the most excellent hand-to-hand combatant, however, her guard was always down when she was with me because I was her parent figure --the one she loved, respected and even feared at times. Donald Pierce was always amazed at how easily I could handle her fits of rage. Most of the time I only needed to say _'Don't, Laura'_ , whereas he had to use a harpoon to make her stop.

I moved to lift her off her feet, but she whined and hooked her foot around my leg, and I had to lift her higher to get her clear. There was a lot of screaming before she was finally in my arms, her slim body stretching and jerking in fitful spasms as panic took over her.

 _“Shhh, shhh. No pasa nada. Está bien, está bien”_ I murmured, pressing my hand to her hot cheek as I held her tighter. The trauma of her past experiences with doctors was clouding her senses. I hated helping them hurt her, but it would be ten times worse if they called Pierce and his hitmen.

When our little struggle was over, one of the doctors tried to pull her away from me, yanking on her arm, and at this, Laura's grip increased and she clung to me as if I was her very life, her sharp cries filling the room and piercing my ears.

“Give her a minute” I said, whipping my hand outward and placing it between the doctor and Laura. He had no choice but to drop his hands from the girl's arm. 

I sat on the gurney that occupied most of the tiny space and uncoiled her arms from around my neck, before turning her round and sitting her on my knees. Even if my heart was breaking in two, I didn’t speak to her at this point because I knew it would only make her scream louder. _I'd worked in pediatric units for more than 15 years, so I was not unfamiliar with these kind of reactions._

I tucked her fingers into her palms and kept my hands over her fists, then quickly hooked one of my legs around her feet. Laura would never unsheathe her claws and hurt me, and I didn't want her to hurt the doctors either. Finding herself cornered, Laura finally accepted defeat. Her head slumped forward and she fell silent. Her breathing was so hard that for a moment I thought she was suffocating. 

One of the doctors seized the opportunity and lifted the hem of her shirt up enough to insert the needle in her belly. It was a thick, purple substance, probably the drug that would inhibit her healing factor for a few hours. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the nape of her neck as the doctor poured the liquid into her body. Her hair smelled of bubble gum, and I saw how rigorously simple it was --last night I had snuck her favorite shampoo into the facility to make her happy, and was now imprisoning her in my grasp, ignoring her struggles, _betraying her_.

The anesthetist asked me to take her shirt off so he could insert the IV line into her arm. The girl briefly looked up at the three bags of clear fluids hanging from a pole before another needle went into her.

Watching Laura undergo anesthesia was the most frightening part. Her body began to go limp and her eyelids fluttered closed. The doctors helped me catch her and place her on the gurney. Her cheeks were flushed and a thin layer of sweat had formed on her forehead. The _unkillable_ girl was now as vulnerable as any other child.

Nurse Paty began to dress her in patient clothing as one of the doctors covered her mouth with an oxygen mask and attached her to more tubes. Once Laura was ready, I helped them wheel the gurney out of the room. I stopped in the corridor for a moment though, and looked around before carefully taking my phone out. I opened the camera and then hid it in the folds of my uniform.

The surgeons were ready when I walked into the operation theatre, a narrow room with poor lighting and ventilation. Dr. Rice was there to supervise and assist the operation --he looked mildly anxious. To my surprise, there was someone else documenting the whole thing with a handycam. _Maybe I could steal it later._

Everything was going according to plan. The doctors had opened up her forearms and extracted the claws, before coating them in adamantium. The beeping sound of the heart monitor filled the room as they carefully assessed the sharp weapons, one by one, and began the process to put them back in Laura's body. I studied her sleep-softened features. Her eyelashes were wet from tears and sweat, her forehead relaxed. The blood on her limbs was begining to dry into a sticky red-black paste. There were two surgeons and three assistants working together. They didn’t have much time before her body began to heal again.

After four agonizing hours, the surgeons closed the wounds and cleaned the skin before wrapping bandages around her hands, arms, feet and ankles. Then the assistants wrapped limb holders around Laura's wrists and ankles and attached the straps to the bed. Dr. Rice was smiling with satisfaction, standing like a statue, cold and stiff, unaware of the cruel wounds they were inflicting upon this innocent girl’s heart and soul.

“Good job. Perfect.” was all he said as he removed his mask and left the room, not even casting a glance at Laura's face.

Mere seconds after the last strap was adjusted, Laura woke up. She slowly opened her eyes, groggy and confused, as the anesthesiologist removed the nasal cannula. She could breathe by herself now. She frowned and gave a grimace of pain, trying to make sense of her surroundings. I watched her carefully. Something was wrong.

 _"¿Laura?"_ I hesitated, taking my mask off.

Upon hearing her name, the young mutant groaned --she appeared to be in obvious pain-- and then glanced down at her hands. Suddenly and without warning, the emotion she had been holding back in the confusion of it all surged upwards. She started to a sitting position and began to scream hysterically.

Her healing factor had not returned yet.

Her worst fear was coming true. The scalding adamantium was burning her muscles as her body was battling to heal the wounds. One of the assistants and nurse Paty pushed the gurney out of the room. The woman touched Laura’s arm, trying to calm her, but it didn’t work. The poor girl was terrified, she was failing to overcome the searing pain, and the damn restraints were only increasing her wails. I'd promised Laura I wouldn’t leave her side, so I followed them down the hall and into the adjacent room. 

Her cries were getting louder, the sound echoing in the facility. 

_“Shh, shhh._ _Ya, ya_ ” I muttered softly, taking my place near the edge of the bed, stroking her head as she moaned in agony. _“No te espantes, mi vida. Aquí estoy contigo, aquí estoy contigo._ _Ya pasó, chiquita, ya pasó”_

I stared at her with concern, fixating on the heartbreaking agony and sheer horror in her eyes, suddenly realizing what I'd done to the girl by handing her over to Dr. Rice.

The pain must have been unbearable because she didn’t even look at me. She was just there, wailing like some wild animal. I’d never seen her this frightened before, not even all those times when they dragged her along the corridors to lock her up and hurt her, not even that night when I thought she'd been abused by one of Pierce's hitmen. I wanted to remove the limb restraints and take her in my arms, but she could hurt herself --or someone else-- if she tried to escape. 

I paused to analyze her expression. Laura was terrified because she was not used to feeling pain for more than a few minutes. Right now, her healing factor wasn’t working properly. The discomfort and alien sensations were torturing her body and mind alike. 

“Don’t be afraid, my love. Don’t be afraid.” I whispered over and over again as I ran a hand down her arm. “It’ll pass. The pain will go away… It’ll be forever gone in a second… I’m here, I’m here.”

My gentle touch and calm presence seemed to be soothing her. I waited patiently until her sharp cries began to subside, before bringing a hand up to her cheek. Laura was having great difficulty keeping her eyes focused on anything but, eventually, she managed to turn her eyes to me. The young mutant wasn’t making noises anymore, only struggling to even out her breathing. I gave her a sad smile and pushed her delicately down until her head was resting on the pillow. There was a heavy sorrow emanating from Laura as she let her eyelids close.

"Shhh, go to sleep. It's ok" I murmured, blinking back the tears in my eyes. Feeling helpless and guilty, I began to sing and hum until her mangled body succumbed to a deep slumber.

 _“…dime si me quieres como yo te quiero...si de mí te acuerdas como yo de ti..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Wild World", Cat Stevens.


	6. X-24

****"You can run from me**   
**And you can hide from me**   
**But I am right beside you**   
**In this life..."**

After the operation everything went to hell. It was as if they’d opened Pandora’s box. 

Laura was distancing herself from me, as though she didn’t want to feel anything towards anyone anymore. The surgery had had a devastating emotional impact on her. She’d always been able to repair her body when they tried to ruin it --a broken skull, a punctured lung, third-degree skin burns-- no matter what they did to break her, she always came back up to the surface, unblemished. It was her way of mocking them. However, this time it was different, they had done something that she couldn’t repair, that she couldn't erase. They'd branded her, left a permanent mark on her body. From now on, nobody would dare to deny that she was theirs. _They had won_.

It didn't help that her bed had been replaced with a new one without legs to keep her from hiding under it, a habit she had acquired as of lately when the guards came to get her. The small space that had given her comfort and privacy was taken away and she began to develop disturbing coping mechanisms --like cutting herself with her new adamantium claws-- when she felt desperate to relieve the unbearable tension and pain. I was truly scared, she had never hurt herself before, _ever,_ not even when she couldn't verbally express her emotions.

The child wasn’t getting enough sleep either, and she lost weight. The adamantium had made her a bit heavier, true, but I could notice her already slim body going even thinner. Every meal was a battle, I tried everything to coax her to eat, but she would shove the bowl roughly away every time I held it up to tempt her. It got to the point where I could see the bones of her back clearly outlined when she was shirtless. That pretty, natural tan of hers was replaced by a greenish color. Even Dr. Johnson was worried about her, he feared her body might be having a negative response to the adamantium. _'It could be poisoning her'_ he'd said.

To make matters worse, all the burden they were putting upon her little shoulders was adding to her depression. Laura and her indestructible claws were a novelty to these scientists, there wasn't a day that they didn't invent a new way to test their new toy. All this unwelcome attention and training had her mental health hanging by a thread. Sometimes she was so out of herself that I couldn’t distinguish between the little girl and the animal that appeared to be growing inside her. More often than not she wouldn’t even look at me, she’d just sit in her cell and stare at the blank wall. The girl didn't even have the energy to cry. 

I spent several nights by her side, watching her carefully, bringing to mind the little girl she'd once been; the springy touch of her, the sweetness of her voice, how she randomly laughed, her endless energy, her adorable scowl, the red in her cheeks and lips, _the unconditional trust_. It was all getting harder to recall. She was fading. One night, I felt so desperate and helpless that I fell apart. I begged her to talk to me --to at least look at me-- begged her to come back. _‘I know they hurt you, and I know you hate them, and I know that what I feel can’t be compared to what you must be going through, but please don’t leave us Laura…please, come back.’_

No child should ever feel like they want to die. Ever.

After four long months, and after honestly thinking that she was not going to survive, my little fighter finally began to make some progress. Her voice returned, and with it, her innocent questions and comments; she started to read her comic books and play with her friends, she could once again laugh and smile, _and even cry_ \--that was an important step. It was a slow recovery, and she still had days when it seemed she'd got nowhere at all, like the time she woke up in the middle of the night desperately calling out to her mom. Thankfully, the other kids had her back, especially Rictor. The boy loved her like a little sister and looked after her whenever I wasn’t around. I saw him once in the dining room forcing her to eat _“Mira, Laura. You might get your own way around Gabriela because you have her wrapped around your little finger, but I’m not her. Open your mouth.”_

By the time Laura was back on her feet, all the children had decided that they wanted to be like their idols, _The X-Men_. Some of them were even refusing to kill and hurt others. They were being more difficult than ever now that they knew they could grow up to be good human beings instead of ruthless monsters. Sadly, this resolution ended up in tragedy. One of our boys took his life after they tried to force him to kill one of the other children. He managed to escape from the training rooms and get on the elevator; minutes later, the doors opened on the top floor and he had nowhere to run to. Finding himself cornered, he jumped from the roof.

I found the disturbing footage a few days later.

+++++++

I was having a day off and I'd promised myself to make the best of it. For days now I had been wanting to reorganize my flat, but I knew I did not have the stamina, the essential optimism to even move the couch back against the wall. So instead I went for a walk on Paseo de la Reforma. 

Like every Sunday in Mexico City cars were banned, and tourists and residents alike took over the usually congested and chaotic avenue. It was a lovely warm sunny day. There were young people crowding the free bike rentals, couples cycling down along the street, rollerbladers pushing strollers, and children pulling dogs. The jacaranda trees were already in full bloom, their bright purple blossoms filling their leafless branches like something out of a children's book. Entire families were strolling under the perfectly arranged tropical palm trees, trying out the various surrealist benches that lined the avenue, and walking into the nearby restaurants and fancy hotels to have breakfast. The view was taking me back to a time before I knew what stress felt like. _So why couldn't I enjoy it?_

A tiny voice at the back of my mind was insistently trying to tell me the reason and I was doing my best to ignore it. The voice won and I gave a sigh as I allowed it to be heard. _How could I enjoy all this when Laura was still struggling to pick herself back up? When one of our little boys had committed suicide? When the kids were being forced to be something they did not want to be?_

I returned home and slept till the late morning, a deep and dreamless sleep. Then I set about tidying my apartment. Afterwards, I took a long shower and cooked some sausages to add to the spaghetti sauce I had in the refrigerator, before turning on the TV. I put the lunch trade down on the coffee table and curled up on the couch. I was drifting in and out of sleep when the doorbell rang.

I gave a heavy sigh, involuntarily uttering an expletive. 

_“¡Quién!”_ I shouted, but nobody answered, so I reluctantly stood up and crossed the living room, wondering who it could be at my door this time of the day.

I opened the door. There was no one outside. For a moment I thought it had been some of the neighborhood kids who rang doorbells and ran away, but then my gaze fell to the cardboard box on my door mat. I stepped out and looked to my left and right, knowing that I would not see anyone there. I shook my head and leaned down to pick the box up, it was very small and light, then I turned around and closed the door.

When I returned to my couch, my food, and the TV, I put the package on my knees and opened it.

_What?_

There was a USB stick device inside, exactly like the ones I’d been borrowing for the last six or seven months, except that this one had a note attached to it:

**GET THE CAR**

I jumped to my feet and went into my bedroom. In less than ten seconds I was back in the living room, flopping down on the couch with my laptop. I inserted the memory stick in the card slot and hit the play button.

The screen began to fill up with a series of broken images and sounds, before a poorly illuminated room appeared on it -- _a room I knew_. I’d been there before. It was a lab, one of the many inside Transigen. It was full of highly sensitive electrical equipment, monitors, test tubes, chemicals, and machines.

Beyond some cabinets and counters, Dr. Rice was talking to someone. They were so immersed in their conversation that they didn’t seem to notice that the other person in the room was holding a camera.

“It’s almost ready” said the strange man to Dr. Rice, stepping into the light, allowing me to see his face.

He wasn’t a stranger. It was Dr. Tejados, a highly qualified geneticist and the reason most of our young mutants were here. He had to determine if the embryos fulfilled Transigen's quality requirements. I thanked God every day that he hadn't discarded any of _my_ kids.

“Are you sure it will meet our expectations?” Rice asked, gesturing towards something I couldn't see.

“Absolutely, Dr. The X-23 program has nothing on this. I guarantee you that it will exceed your expectations” Dr. Tejados said. His air of confidence seemed to lift Rice's spirit as the two scientists moved to lean over the mysterious thing behind the counter.

“What about the… conscience issue. Was it solved?” Rice asked nervously, staring down at the experiment that was probably costing the company millions of dollars.

After a short hesitation Dr. Tejados replied, “We’re still working on it".

Rice straightened up and looked the man in the eyes to scrutinize him properly, trying to detect doubt in him.

"But I assure you it’ll be as soulless as a rock once we solve the problem" Dr. Tejados quickly added, confidence still echoing in his every move despite Rice's suspicious stare. 

There was a brief but noticeable hiatus in their conversation before Rice nodded.

“Thank you, Tejados.” he finally breathed. “I guess we can begin to consider _clearing out the stock_ that is low in demand” Rice said through a devilish grin.

“I would say so, Dr." he muttered as a smile broke on his lips. Apparently, it was their little joke. "Just give us a few more days to perform some tests” 

The screen went black for a couple of seconds and then glowed again. The person holding the camera was recording several tanks that contained body parts. _Dr. Johnson was right, these people were just like Dr. Frankenstein_. The monitors and flat screens on the counters were featuring x-rays and 4D images of a grown man's anatomy. The camera tilted and I could finally see the label on the bottom of one of the screens.

**_X-24_**

Dr. Rice’s voice could still be heard in the background, he was babbling about Mexican food and sushi. Whoever was recording the laboratory decided that he had enough footage, and without warning, turned off the camera.

I stayed put for a long moment, perched on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the TV, hearing the energetic drone of a familiar host's voice coming from the screen. The tray of food was still resting on the coffee table, untouched. The air was getting harder to breathe.

 _X-24?_ _Better than…the children? Soulless? Clearing out the stock?_

I frowned as, once again, Dr. Johnson’s words rang in my ears. _‘They are working on something new’_

A sickness and a tightening at the base of my throat were with me as I suddenly found myself standing by the open window. It didn't sink at first. The answer was floating round the room but when I tried to grasp at it, it was nothing but air. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

_‘Get the car’_

_'Save them. Save her'_

_'Eden'_

It was happening. 

I was not alone. The stranger who’d sent me all this worked for Transigen. The nurses weren't the only ones whose lives had been destroyed by this twisted and sick business. There were others like us. Someone was ploting against Transigen and they needed my help. _But how? Why me?_

 _Do not trust strangers_ , my _abuelita_ would always say. But I had no choice. 

I moved away from the window and pulled out the list I’d found in the previous box from one of the kitchen drawers, before looking at the address where I had to _get the car_. It wasn't far from my apartment. 

Without hesitation I grabbed my handbag and dashed out the door. 

++++++++++++

The taxi pulled up next to a plain used car dealership. By the entrance where we had stopped was a gangly young man washing a red van. I had no particular plan, though it was clear that if the stranger had sent me here, it would be easy enough to get the car.

 _“Disculpa. ¿Tú eres el dueño?”_ I asked the man, and he simply shook his head, dunking a cleaning mitt in a bucket with soapy water.

I waited. 

_“No, es en aquella oficina"_ he replied at last, gesturing toward a small office behind me. 

_"Gracias"_ I muttered and turned around. 

A crooked sign that announced OFICINA hung on a door which stood ajar. Beyond it, someone was typing quickly. I knocked on the door and waited patiently, seconds later, a tall man in his forties opened the door.

 _"Hola, bienvenida. Pase, pase”_ he said as he stepped aside and held the door for me.

I entered the small office with no thought for what I was about to say or do here. Certainly, I couldn't just step inside and say something like _Hi, my name is Gabriela. A stranger told me to come here. Can you give me a car?_

The owner sat behind his desk and watched me settle in a chair across from him before speaking.

 _“¿En qué le puedo ayudar?”_ The salesman asked. Even though he was smiling, he appeared to have recently come through a serious illness. 

I hesitated, seriously thinking about asking some random question regarding his cars and then leave.

“ _Mi nombre es Gabriela López y--"_ I began, but he cut me off.

 _“¡Gabriela López!”_ The man exclaimed, leaning forward. I nodded, and the next moment he was sliding open a drawer in a tin cabinet. _“Aquí están los papeles del carro, todo a su nombre. Puede revisarlos si gusta”_ he said, pulling out a folder. 

My mouth fell open as the salesman opened it in front of me and began to spread out vehicle documents under my name. He was turning pages, running his finger down numbers and names, but I was neither looking nor listening. Once again, I felt like I was missing something important.

 _“Disculpe ¿Quién fue el que--?”_ I stammered.

“No” The man interrupted me once more, shaking his head, even as he stood. _"Perdón, pero no puedo darle más información acerca de mi cliente._ _El carro está listo allá afuera, acompáñeme”_

I innerly sighed, this was begining to bother me. He couldn’t tell me anything about _his client._ He came around his desk, folder in hand, and motioned me to follow him outside. 

_"Manuel, entrégale a la señorita el Nissan Versa gris que tenemos reservado”_ he ordered the young man, who was currently drying off the red van with a yellow microfiber towel, as we came away from the office. 

Manuel threw the towel over his shoulder and pointed to a gray Nissan Versa parked next to the van he'd just finished washing. I glanced over my shoulder to check if the owner was being serious. He smiled politely and scorted me to the car.

 _“Le hicimos el mantenimiento y lo lavamos, pero si gusta puede checar que todo esté en orden”_ Manuel explained as the owner opened the driver's door for me and handed me the car keys and the folder. 

Minutes later, I was driving the car along a deserted street, eastwards towards my apartment, savoring the novelty of driving for the first time in over five years, but also chiding myself for accepting a car from a complete stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"In This Life", Chantal Krezuviak.


	7. Mexico City

****"When illusion spin her net  
I'm never where I want to be  
And liberty she pirouette  
When I think that I am free..."**

For the following three days María, Valeria, Paty and I spent most of our spare time planning the escape, even if we didn't know exactly when or how. We had entered a period in which all the terms and conditions had changed. We were bolder, braver, stronger, and so were the kids. Many of them were old enough to help us save their lives. There were new unspoken rules, we were experiencing something like awe, as though we were walking into a newly discovered world. But there was space too for a little touch of fear, genuine uncertainty about the kids' future.

This was a matter that demanded all of our concentration, so for starters, we agreed that it was best if we met at the exact location of Eden should we get separated. Even if the place turned out to be a fantasy, God forbid, at least the children would stay together and look after each other. However, none of the other nurses had received any boxes, or money, or cars, or comic books, and I was still struggling to figure out why this person had chosen me, and who they were.

I was positive that it was someone from the Department of Epigenetics. It had to be. It wasn’t easy to get into the laboratory I saw on the footage, only geneticists had unrestricted access to it. My main suspect was Tom _\--Valeria’s crush_ . Maybe Valeria had been telling him all about the children and their miserable lives. And maybe, _just maybe_ , he felt guilty and decided to help them. _Why, then, did he know Laura's name?_

I asked Valeria about it several times, but she assured me that she would never get us in trouble by giving that kind of information to anyone, not even Tom. I didn’t bother her again with questions, but I’d known the nurse for several years now and she wasn’t the most discreet person in the world. 

On the other hand, the Wolverine fan page had turned out to be incredibly useful, his fans were professional stalkers. According to some of them, a man who looked like him was often spotted driving a 2024 Chrysler limo in El Paso, Texas --a kind of uber driver. They said he looked old, shabby, and tired; so I made a mental note to make a list of all the limo hire services available in that city.

It was a somber day, the sky was gray and rain was lashing down and I couldn't see anything that was beyond the gates of the apartment block. In the corner of my living room an ice bucket was catching drips from the ceiling. I was doing my best, but the money I earned only stretched so far, and on occasion I came up short. Home repairs were not at the top of my list right now.

I removed my apron and poured down the last of the hot chocolate I'd prepared last night into a cup before sitting down on the couch, my gaze falling to the screen of my laptop. I'd spent the whole morning stitching together some of the footage I’d been collecting and transfering it to my phone. My video diaries were getting bolder, and the material was pretty good, even if the editing was a bit messy and confusing.

I was dragging a clip down into the timeline at the bottom of the window when my phone beeped loudly, startling me. I grabbed the phone off the coffee table and stared at it confusedly for a second. It was María.

“ _Hola_ , María. What is it?” I asked, holding the phone to my ear. 

“Gabriela, get here right now.” she urged.

The nurse was clearly agitated, she sounded like she was restraining herself from breaking into tears. Suddenly, I heard children crying on the other line. At this, I stood up abruptly, balancing the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I picked up the cup I’d just knocked off the coffee table, a puddle of chocolate staining the carpet.

“What’s going on?” I asked, begining to panic. "Who's crying!"

“They asked us to shut down the X-23 program...to destroy everything" she began, letting out a choked sob. "I …We are retrieving all kinds of documents from the rooms...Pierce...they...the kids...get here now.” she blubbered, but I was already out of the apartment, holding the car keys tightly in my hand.

+++++++++

I lurched out into the street. I was weaving, maybe too fast, through the traffic, shouting expletives at the other drivers. Rain fell heavily, a seemingly solid wall and not thousands upon thousands of individual water molecules.

"Damn it! Doesn't anyone in this city stay home when it rains anymore?" I shouted inside the car to myself as I looked down nervously at my watch again. The driver in the car next to me glanced over in my direction when he heard my loud shout. The damn traffic was moving a little faster than walking pace.

Exasperated, I jerked the wheel, sliding through the narrow spaces between the cars, leaving behind a chorus of horns. The car sped through the city for another hour as I tried to shake off the anxiety.

Finally, Transigen was half a mile in front of me. The heavy rain had taken a pause; only raindrops were bouncing on the car's roof as I lowered my speed and parked in the corner of a street, not too far from the building. I opened my phone's camera and hid it in my pocket - _-I would need evidence in case things went wrong_. A second later, I was out on the pavement and starting to run.

I quickly hurried up the steps to the main lobby of the building. Apart from the empty security desk, everything looked normal, but then again, this was just a façade. If there was any chaos happening it was surely to be found underground...as always. The sound of my staggering footsteps echoed through the white space as I hurried over to the elevator and pushed the down button with shaky fingers.

I wasn’t wrong.

I exited the elevator and rushed into the vast floor space where all pretenses were dropped. People were running in all directions: doctors, nurses, Reavers, and strangers who looked like criminals. They were crowding the corridors, a thunderous drumming of shoes on a hard surface. I threw myself into the chaos, dodging gurneys and people alike. It was then that I spotted a familiar face walking briskly towards me.

“ _¡Valeria!_ ” I blurted out quickly. Her thin body was shaking as if in a fit, her uniform was wrinkled and dirty and she was clutching one of the children’s soothing balls to her chest.

“He’s dead, he’s dead. They’re killing them!” she shouted. Her breathing was labored and she could barely stand on her feet. My heart sank as I wagged my head from side to side in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening, not like this.

“Calm down. Who’s dead? What’s going on?” I asked, even though I didn't want to hear her answer, putting my hand on her shoulder to stare at her bleak face. 

“ _¡Martín!_ ” she cried, holding on to me for support. “I begged the doctors not to do it, but they were so scared of them… they’re threatening to kill us too if we don’t help them…” she muttered, a moan rumbling in her throat that sounded more like an animal than human. “They’re putting the children to sleep! _¡Como si fueran perros! ¡Como si fueran perros!_ ” The nurse wailed, sinking to her knees.

I didn’t need a mirror to know that I’d gone deathly pale and looked closer to the point of collapse than her. I did not want to believe Valeria’s words, but the more I looked at her, the truer they became. _The discarded test subjects were now everyone's property._

“Get your card and free the children from the third floor.” I instructed, leaning down to put my hands on her face, trying to bring my hysterical friend to her senses. “Take as many as you can with you. Tell them to stick together and get to EDEN --they all know the coordinates by heart. Next Friday is the meeting deadline.”

Without expecting any answer, I spun round, trying to collect my thoughts, and raced downstairs to the second floor –to where _my_ children’s cells were located.

 _They didn’t take them; they didn’t take them… Please, Father, let my children be alive…_ I prayed as my floppy legs struggled to make it down the steps. It felt like one of those terrifying nightmares where you have to escape the monster but your feet get numb and you can’t make your body move fast enough. A chill rose to the top of my stomach as I took out my key-card and frantically began to unlock the cells.

 _“¡Corre! ¡Gideon, sal! ¡Corre, corre! ¡Salte! ¡Corre, Riverta!"_ I yelled at the children.They scrambled to their feet and lurched out into the corridor, surprised that someone had come to rescue them _. "_ _¡Apúrate, apúrate! ¡Corre! ¡Vamos! ¡Vamos, Elana! ¡Apúrate, corre! ¡Hacia las puertas! ¡Afuera!”_

The chaos down here was even worse. There were other members of the facility hierarchy, in white lab coats, blue suits, khaki shirts, who suddenly were no longer doctors or guards or superintendents but murderers, potential or real. A female doctor ran past me carrying little Oscar, while Tomás burned someone with his powers to give them more time. Their faces were strained, alert.

Breathing heavily and focusing all of my energy on controlling my emotions, I rushed to the cell I was most desperate to get to, fighting my way through the panicked crowd. I heard screams and voices, but they did not reach me. They were irrelevant, they were impediments to my field of vision. I swam through them, pushed them aside to get to her. I was taking long strides, bawling her name as I pounded the lenght of the corridor. _Please God…please God…let me find Laura there, please._ I kept praying as I reached Laura’s cell, afraid of being too late. I had no air. I could not think.

The door was closed, but the cell was empty. All the cells in this area were like that, including Bobby’s and Rictor’s. I heard a sharp cry at the end the corridor and instinctively ran towards it, only to find Pierce using a stun gun on a child as he dragged him by a foot. I stopped and stepped back before Pierce could see me. The sound of agonizing screams resonated loudly out into a nearby room. Panic rose up inside me as I headed briskly towards it, fearing the worse. There was a dead boy lying on a gurney -- _Martín_. Nurse Paty was trying to not fall apart, while a little girl, Andrea, was in a state of shock, quietly watching the body of her friend. It was some moments before Pierce entered the room, dragging the stunned little boy. He let go of the child's foot and began to pace around the room like a maniac. I turned around and walked out before he could see that I was recording him. 

I quickened my pace and peeked into the adjacent room, looking for my children, but all I found were nurses and doctors destroying documents. I felt my jaw tightening in anger.

“Leave all this!” I shouted, a wave of fury taking over me. “What’s wrong with you all! They’re killing our children!” I snatched some files from one of the doctors and threw them to the floor. “Help them! Go out and save them! Get them out of here! They’ll kill us too after they’re done with the kids! They’ll hand us over to those criminals!”

My voice was hard and my lips were pulled back from my teeth. Some of them were petrified, but others actually listened to me and ran out to help...or maybe to save themselves. Either way, Laura wasn’t with them and I was running out of time.

Despair began to trickle coldly down my spine as I strode down the corridor to the only place Laura and her friends could be: the training rooms. Ignoring the startled expression of everyone around me, I rushed downstairs, phone in hand. I had not let go of it since I had arrived, but in these moments I had to focus on finding Laura, so I put it away. I ran into a Reaver carrying a little girl out of a room. She was kicking and screaming, just like Laura when she was mad. In parks, shops, playgrounds, and restaurants I could not fail to find her in other little girls, it was a habit I couldn't break, the product of an obsessive guilt. I stared at the familiar dark-haired girl for a moment. No, of course that was not my Laura, or that man wouldn’t have a head on his shoulders. Her name was Mira, and there was nothing I could do to help her. 

My legs and heart were heavy as I made my way along the endless white corridors.

 _“¡Laura!_ Laura! _”_ I shouted her name desperately, over and over again, sometimes in Spanish, sometimes in English. My nerves were so on edge that I began to doubt if I was even going in the right direction, but then the training rooms came into sight. I came to a halt. There was no one around, except for a heavy silence threatening to sweep me away. I walked slowly through a door which stood ajar into the training rooms area. My breath caught in my throat and I froze as I took in the scene around me.

There were body parts scattered across the floor. The space reeked of blood. _Laura had been here_.

“ _¡Laura!_ ” I shouted, crossing the rooms, one by one, as my eyes searched for the childish face that I’d come to love more than my own life.

 _"Se la llevaron”_ A weak voice said “A man in a lab coat just took her with him”.

I stopped and turned around. Mr. Rodriguez, the coach, appeared from behind a bench. He was sweating, his clothes were covered in blood, and he was awfully shaken.

“They broke in with all kinds of guns…they tried to kill us… but Laura killed them first.” he explained, clutching his shoulder as he struggled to get up. He was bleeding. "She ordered Bobby and Rictor to get the little ones out of here. I’d never heard her speak before!” he exclaimed through wide eyes “She'd just stabbed the last one when a…a young man appeared at the door and showed her a kind of...comic book.”

“What?” I blurted. 

“Yes, he seemed to know that it would stop Laura from jumping upon him…he told her that you were waiting for her upstairs and... she went with him.” 

My head moved slowly from side to side in a mixture of bewilderment and desbelief. _Somebody had tricked my girl… somebody had taken Laura…_

“What did he look like!” I demanded, ready to physically attack the vulnerable coach if he didn't answer my question. _"¡Dime!"_

The man was panting and squeezing his eyes, but he summoned up all his strength to reply. “Blond, young…he had a British accent”

_Tom..._

I spun around and rushed from the room, struggling to catch my breath as I headed towards the nearest elevator. Tom had her. I had been right all along. _But what if he’d been tricking me too? What if this was all a trap?_ The doors opened noisily on the first floor and I raced into the Department of Epigenetics, determined to break down the damn doors. I peered down the well illuminated corridor and set off down it quickly. But before I had the chance to check if the first door was locked, I heard a voice behind me.

“Gabriela! Over here!” It was him. Tom. He was calling my name from a small room in the middle of a corridor. Without a moment of hesitation I ran towards him and went through the door. Suddenly and without warning, a pair of little arms were wrapped around my waist, almost knocking me backwards.

“ _¡Laura!_ ” I cried.

Relief washed over me. I crouched down and smothered the girl with kisses, before taking in her dishevelled appearance. _“Mi niña, mi bebé. ¿Estás bien?”_ I frantically asked as I took hold of her shoulders and held her away, giving her a very thorough inspection, instinctively looking for any wounds although I knew that I obviously wouldn't find any.

“Hurry!" Tom said urgently "Get her out of here. Find him. Take her to Eden. The real sanctuary is in Canada, my friends will help you cross!” I glanced up at him, he was holding a small green backpack. “It’s for her. I packed a ball, comic books, a map, files, anything that could be of help. Just follow the coordinates!”

If I hadn't been so scared, I would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. Instead, I frowned. Laura hesitantly took the backpack from his hands, and he turned his anguished eyes to her round, tanned face. There was something in his expression I couldn’t fathom.

“But…what about…why…” I stammered. Laura was staring at him with obvious curiosity, shrugging the backpack on.

“Don’t worry about the rest of the children.” Tom quickly reassured, a spark of something wild in his eyes. “I’ll help the other nurses to save as many as possible. Go. Now!” 

I nodded meekly and held Laura's hand. We were at the door, before a sudden thought stopped me in my tracks. I spun back to him. Nothing made sense, I didn't know why he was helping us, helping _her_. But it didn't matter right now. He was our guardian angel, proof that my prayers had been answered. “Thank you...Dr. Kinney” I muttered, and then we hurried out of his office. 

Time slowed down as Laura and I strode along the corridor. A sense of a fresh begining hung in the air, intensifying my senses. The chaos was being accomodated by the slowing of time. My heart raced inside my chest, Laura’s warm hand tightened around mine, our steps echoed through the empty first floor. The infamous glass doors were finally in front of us, light spilling into the quiet lobby. I looked down at Laura, her lips were parted and her eyebrows raised, wonder shining in her delighted eyes as she walked towards freedom. 

"Don't look back, baby." I whispered, fearing that we might turn into salt statues if she did. Drawing courage into herself, Laura pushed the doors open and finally, _finally_ , stepped out of Transigen.

Hundreds of tiny raindrops hit our faces and she squeezed my hand, the unexpected sensation making her flinch. Then she straightened up, breathing in the fresh air, smelling the rain. It was like seeing a newborn breathe for the first time. She glanced up at the sky, astounded, as her innocent eyes took in the everyday sight that Transigen had never let her see. Laura didn't look excited now, she looked peaceful.

This should have been the most special moment of her short life. I should have crouched down and smile at the miracle in front of my eyes --Laura out in the world, out in the city of her dreams. I should have taken her into my arms and thank God for this.

But we were still in danger.

 _"¡Vamos!”_ I urged, pulling her hand. Even if Laura was a lot faster than me, I practically had to drag her across the lawn because the novelty of running on grass seemed to be taking all her attention. Not until we reached the gates and ran into the street did Laura suddenly stop once more, awestruck by the view. She stared at the trees, highways, and buildings in profound wonder. Rain was going straight through her clothes, running off her hair and dripping from the end of her nose.

 _"Vamos, nena._ We have to get to the car" I said urgently, tugging at her hand. "There it is, you see? That one!" I pointed to the gray car parked on the other side of the street, trying to attract her attention. We crossed at last, in front of an impatient pack of cars that snarled forward the moment we reached the sidewalk. 

"Get in!" I said, opening the rear door for Laura. She hesitated, so I quickly lifted her in and slammed the door shut before going around to the driver's side. 

I wanted her to sit next to me, but in Mexico City children can't sit in the front seat --and the last thing we needed was the transit police pulling us over. I was about to tell her to put her seatbelt on when I remembered that she didn't know how, so I just floored the pedal and drove all the way down Panamericana avenue before turning right into Periférico Sur highway. We drove past Perisur shopping mall, the National Institute of Pediatrics, Armstrong laboratories, Polanco laboratories, and AstraZeneca. In an area so full of hospitals and labs it was no wonder that nobody ever paid attention to Transigen --let alone suspected anything.

I said in one of my videos that Transigen's practices are illegal in the US and Canada, but the truth is that they are illegal in Mexico as well. No one can rip newborn babies from their mothers' arms and experiment on them; no country in North America would recognize children being ‘property’ as patents and copyrights --like Dr. Rice had told María. It's just that it was easier for them to hide their company in this country because they had connections with some of the strongest human trafficking markets in Mexico --and the money to pay for their expert advice, help, and protection, obviously. Also, the government was too busy solving paramount problems to pay attention to a _'respectable'_ American laboratory operating next to a hundred more in the city. _If you want to hide a tree, put it in a forest_.

Traffic surrounded us on all sides, it was around time when school finished and office workers had their lunch break. The rain had finally stopped. I glanced around, the long row of cars in front of me was barely moving forward. Laura was quiet in the back seat, looking out the window. She hadn’t said a word since we’d left Transigen forty minutes ago --and we were not even halfway through. We needed to get to my apartment, pick up the money, the new phone, medical supplies, clothes, and other necessities before leaving the city. They didn’t know the car, so we were safe for the time being.

 _“¿Todo bien?”_ I asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror, but she didn’t reply. This was an unfamiliar enviornment and Laura was a little bit anxious, so her voice was missing. “Give me a little smile, baby, just to know that you’re ok.”

Laura managed a smile and then looked away. I didn't blame her, I was still shaking badly with nerves, drumming on the steering wheel with extended forefingers, worried about my nurse friends and the other kids. The traffic was starting up again. We edged forward a little further and began to draw level with another hospital and then, we stopped again. Laura was soaking wet and the air was cold, but she didn’t seem to care.

“See all those buildings around you? They’re so tall, aren’t they?” I asked as we waited patiently in the slowmoving traffic, trying to make small talk with her. She turned her gaze to me and gave a stiff nod.

I figured she was feeling overwhelmed by all the new sounds and images --Laura wasn’t only gifted with claws and a healing factor, her senses were enhanced too-- or maybe she was simply thinking about her future. 

“ _No hay nada de qué preocuparse, bebé_. You’re safe and we’re together." I muttered, trying to quell her worries. "I’m not leaving your side --not now, not ever” Laura needed to know that I would still be a constant presence in her life, that everything would be different from now on, except my unconditional love for her. “The hardest part is over, Laura. You’re going to love all the pretty things out here.” I said through an encouraging smile. Her gaze softened and she gave another nod before turning her eyes to the sky, lips still tightly compressed.

“I wonder if you like the sky...” I continued on, keeping my eyes on the road. When you have a selectively mute child, sometimes it helps to offer them the opportunity to speak, but not the expectation to speak. _"...o tal vez te gustan más esos cerros de ahí."_ I suggested. In Laura’s case, speaking in the language she favored helped her feel more comfortable. Laura always struggled with her English pronunciation because she never spoke to anyone besides her friends and the nurses --who could perfectly understand Spanish-- so there was no real need for her to use both languages. It was partly my fault, I should have done something when I first noticed that she wasn't switching from one language to another like the rest of our toddlers. Now she spoke English with a strong Mexican accent, unlike the other kids.

 _“El cielo"_ she whispered, finally breaking the spell, and I smiled. _“¿Pero dónde está el sol?”_ she added, disappointment evident in her voice.

I shifted the rearview mirror to look at her, she was leaning with both elbows on the sill, her eyes searching for the sun.

“Ah, the sun is hidden behind all those clouds because it’s raining. But don’t worry, it’ll come out again tomorrow” I assured her.

 _"¡Mira esa cobija enorme de ahí que alguien puso a secar!"_ Laura suddenly shouted, pointing to the huge flag in front of us. "Woooow!" She exclaimed, grabbing the headrests of the front seats as she leaned forward between them to get a better view.

I smiled at her innocence, and without taking my eyes off the road, I gently pushed her back before she could step in the passenger seat. It was funny how they'd taught the children to read maps, but not the most basic information about countries.

" _Ay, Laura_. That's not a blanket, that's the Mexican flag and nobody hung it there to dry." I said through a laugh. I never imagined that it would be so delightful to see the world through her eyes.

Little by little she began to regain her voice and feel comfortable in her new surroundings, pointing to objects and asking questions. At one point, she even relaxed into a monologue about the faces of the other drivers and I had to ask her to stop pointing and staring at them. People often worried that she was quiet, but in fact, Laura always had something to say on every single thing. She could even be brutally honest and quite bossy at times. _'Se le sale lo mexicana',_ my _abuelita_ would say. Bobby and Charlotte were usually her unfortunate victims. It was so frustrating that people never got to see this Laura, all they ever saw was a quiet, distant child who grunted instead of speaking.

After being stuck in the heavy traffic for almost two hours, we finally reached the apartment block. Laura had enjoyed the ride, though, smiling hugely most of the way. I parked in an alleway a block south of the building and stepped out of the vehicle before opening the door for Laura. She was still looking up, searching for the sun, as we walked along the street. The clouds were dense and opaque, threatening rain. I frowned and steered Laura towards the gates, we needed to pack our bags as fast as possible and then leave.

There was little activity in the block --no kids kicking a ball around or playing tag, no one smoking out of the windows, no one leaving or entering. We were walking through the hazy silence toward number 302 when something caught Laura's attention and she stopped. As if summoned by the silence, the gates opened and a red car spattered with mud cruised to a halt next to us. 

Lety, my neighbor, and her daughter Natalia had just arrived from school. The devoted mother was holding a unicorn lunchbox and a tri-fold cardboard awkwardly as she helped her little girl out of the car. This was the first time Laura was seeing a normal girl her age, and she couldn’t help but stare at the pink bow on Natalia's head, the sparkly backpack that matched her lunchbox, and her nice clothes --she was wearing black ballet flats, navy blue knee socks, and a red raincoat over her school uniform. It was a bizarre sight for me too, like looking at an alternate version of Laura if she hadn’t been raised in a lab.

I was suddenly very much aware of Laura's wet, plain clothes, and the dry blood on the sleeves of her cotton shirt as Natalia skipped towards us, sucking on a _tootsie pop._

_“¡Hola Gabriela!”_ Natalia said happily, before turning her eyes to Laura. _“Hola ¿Por qué estás toda mojada?”_ The girl asked her through a frown, gesturing to Laura’s wet clothes and hair.

I didn’t answer for Laura. I waited. I needed to see if she would talk to other people now that we were out of Transigen. But her mouth stayed tightly closed, and Natalia narrowed her eyes, confused, and I innerly sighed. 

_“Es que estaba lloviendo”_ I explained, forcing a smile to my lips. The girl's question was indeed dumb, one that I certainly shoudn't have bothered to answer because a bunch of psycho scientists wanted to kill us and we needed to pack up and leave the city -- _the country_. 

I tugged at Laura’s hand, but she grunted and held her ground. She wasn't done studying the 'weird' girl in front of her yet. 

_“¿Es tu hija?”_ Natalia asked me, unable to cointain her curiosity.

I froze. _Who was Laura to me?_ They’d never seen me with a little girl before, and they knew that my family didn’t live here. 

_“Uh, no, es hija de una amiga..."_ I began awkwardly, looking down at Laura, who was staring intently at the lollipop in the girl's hand. _"Pero en un rato ya nos vamos”_ I quickly added, in case Natalia was planning to ask for a play date. _'Uh, no, she's my friend's daughter...but we're leaving in a few minutes'_

The chatty, confident girl opened her mouth to ask more questions when her mother caught up with us --she'd been taking groceries out of the trunk of her car. The woman was wearing a floral print dress, an odd thing for a cold day.

 _“Hola, Gaby”_ she smiled widely, and then her gaze fell to Laura _“¿Y esta niña tan linda?”_ she inquired, leaning slightly forward, a strand of black hair escaping from her bun, tickling her soft-looking cheeks. Lety was a vivacious, caring woman with a lovely smile. Laura's eyes darted between the beautiful woman and her daughter, she was staring at them with a peculiar interest. My heart broke a little bit, my poor girl was probably thinking about her own mother.

 _"Es la hija de su amiga, pero ya se van”_ Natalia explained to her mom, sparing me the trouble, as she pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head. It was begining to drizzle.

“ _Pero está toda mojada y ya va a llover otra vez._ _¿No trajo chamarra?”_ Lety asked concerned, looking critically at Laura's damp, flimsy shirt. She wanted to know if Laura had brought a jacket. I could feel myself growing impatient, we had to be out of the city before it got dark.

 _“No, pero no te preocupes._ _Ahorita le pongo algo”_ I quickly reassured her, taking hold of Laura's wrist. But just as I was about to pull the girl toward the stairs, Lety shook her head and waved away my solution with her hand. 

_“¡Ay, no!_ _¿Cómo crees?”_ The woman protested, before turning to her daughter. _“Natalia, dale tu impermeable a la niña._ _Que te lo traiga después.”_

Natalia nodded obediently and began to take off her raincoat, holding the lollipop in her mouth. 

_“No, no, no”_ I blurted out, trying to stop her. _“No, está bien”_ If she lent Laura that jacket she would never see it again. In fact, this was probably the last time that I would see them. 

_“Sí, sí._ _Claro que sí”_ My neighbor insisted as she handed me the red raincoat. Lety knew that I didn't have a car and she didn't want Laura to get soaked. _“Natalia tiene muchos. No te preocupes, me lo das luego.”_

 _I know that your daughter has plenty of jackets, but this is like stealing,_ I mentally murmured to myself as I reluctantly took the coat from her hand. Seconds later, they were walking into their apartment, little Natalia waving goodbye at Laura.

 _“¡Gracias!”_ I shouted. 

The moment their door was closed, I took Laura's hand and we raced upstairs and into my apartment. I gestured Laura to wait in the living room and then rushed into my bedroom, flinging myself on the floor to retrieve a suitcase. I shoved personal items, clothes, and documents into it. Then I turned to my dresser and pulled out a first aid case full of bandages, syringes, and other medical supplies. 

I returned to the living room carrying the suitcase. I put it down and snagged the phone and the money off the table before inserting my phone's SD card into the new smartphone --I needed the footage-- and then wrote down the coordinates of Eden on the yellow envelopes. 

Laura was calm and compossed, examining all the forbidden objects around her with obvious curiosity. I watched her absently as my concerns narrowed to practical matters: how soon we could leave the apartment, how I had left my belongings in Transigen, how I had failed to help my other kids. 

The sound of heavy rain falling down outside snapped me out of my reverie, and I let out a sigh.

 _“Lau, pasa al baño antes de irnos, mi vida. Es esa puerta de ahí"_ I muttered, gesturing to the bathroom. It would be a long car ride and I didn't need Laura yelling _'Gotta go!'_ in the middle of the highway. _"Me gritas si necesitas algo”_ I added, shoving the money and the phone into my handbag.

 _"Pero no tengo ganas"_ she grumbled, toying with a figurine she'd pulled from a shelf. At this, I beckoned her over and she moved to stand in front of me. 

"Trust me, you're not going to like public bathrooms" I said, taking the figurine from her hand, before adding gently yet firmly, "Leave your bag here and go, please" 

She hesitated a moment, but then shrugged off her backpack and went to the bathroom. Laura was a little over-protective of her belongings, especially if it was a toy or something of the sort.

I went round the house unpluging electronics, turning off surge protectors, closing all the drapes, and turning off the lights. When Laura came out of the bathroom I pulled her round to face me and helped her into Natalia's raincoat. I couldn't help but smile, this was the first time Laura was wearing something colorful, and she looked adorable. 

“Put your backpack on, _mi amor._ We’re leaving.” I said, moving to grab the suitcase.

We stepped outdoors into the storm. People were running to their cars in the rain while others were standing in the entrance of the local church, talking and waiting for the rain to slack up. I held Laura's hand tightly as we strode down the street. It was a two-minute walk to the car, enough time to get soaked by the sheeting rain again.

Finally, we managed to get into the vehicle.

I looked at Laura through the rearview mirror as I started the car, the raincoat hadn't made any difference. She was dripping all over the backseat, her pants clinging wetly to her. 

_"Quítate el impermeable para que tu ropa se seque”_ I said when I noticed that her teeth were chattering. She immediately obeyed, grunting with the extertion of getting out of her coat. I turned on the heater, cursing myself for not packing some towels... _and food_.

 _'Mierda'_ I muttered under my breath as the sudden thought crossed my mind. Laura probably hadn’t eaten anything in hours --I doubted they’d given lunch to a bunch of children they were planning to kill.

I looked ahead at the road, maybe we could make a quick stop at the supermarket to get food and girls' clothes. If we hurried, we could be in Querétaro by 11pm, then find a motel and get some sleep. 

“ _¿Tienes hambre, amor?_ ” I asked. Maybe she wasn’t even hungry and we could keep going until we were out of Mexico City.

 _“Sí, un buen. Ni siquiera nos dieron de desayunar.”_ Laura grumbled, bringing her legs up to her chest.

Ah, she hadn't even had breakfast.

“Ok. Hold on a little longer. We’ll make a stop to get a snack or something, _sí?_ " 

She gave a resigned sigh and nodded, and I felt a pang of remorse. I was supposed to be looking after her.

"Let's play a game.” I suggested “Let’s see who can spot more white cars on the road."

Laura uncoiled her legs and straightened herself up in the seat as she turned her eyes to the window and began to count. " _Uno_... _dos! ...tres! ..."_

It takes approximately 22 hours to drive from Mexico City to El Paso. However, it would be risky to take the fastest route because it was the most obvious, so I reckoned it would take us three or four days to get there. Besides, Laura was too young and had been through a lot lately. I couldn’t ask her to sit in a car for more than 9 or 10 hours straight. We could stop in Querétaro, then in Durango, and then in Ciudad Juárez --my hometown. My mother had left me her house, and it had remained inhabited since she'd passed away because I never summoned up the courage to sell it. We could hide there until we had our American visas --or until I figured out how to cross the border.

Laura didn't even have a birth certificate. Despite being Mexican-Canadian she couldn't receive the benefits and privileges offered by these two countries. Sneaking her into the U.S was going to be tricky.

There was a Walmart just a 5 minute drive from where we were, so I changed lanes and exited the freeway before joining Laura’s game. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Solsbury Hill", Peter Gabriel.


	8. Blue Skies

****"Little darling**   
**It seems like years since it's been here..."**

“ _Acuérdate, bebé. No garras_. No claws.”

I was holding Laura's hand as we moved towards the entrance. She was energetic despite her ordeal, keen to see the supermarket. The oddity of the city intrigued her. The store was crowded with fatigued mothers scolding their kids, well-dressed childless couples buying food for their dogs and cats, old-age pensioners shopping with their caregivers, and young single people throwing fresh vegetables, salmon, instant soup, and wine into their carts.

We'd barely walked through the automatic doors when Laura suddenly dropped her hand from mine and ran towards the nearest aisle and snagged a _Gatorade_ drink off the shelf. She opened the bottle, throwing away the little piece of plastic that sealed the lid, and took a heavy gulp, abandoning all property. Faces were turning towards her. I gave a weary sigh and crossed the short distance between us in a couple of strides, ignoring the food demonstrator who was irritably trying to attract my attention.

 _"¡Laura, no te me sueltes así!”_ I barked at the young mutant, grasping her arm. She was looking up at me with big, brown, innocent eyes. “This place is crowded and you’ll get lost if you run away from me like that. Besides, we’re not allowed to open the products because they’re not ours yet. _Trae acá_.” I said, trying to snatch the bottle from her hand, but she quickly clutched it to her chest, scowling, trying to stifle a growl.

_God, give me patience..._

I sighed heavily and let go of the bottle. “Ok, keep it. But just this once.” I said, and Laura simply blinked at me through another gulp of Gatorade. This was my second heavy sigh in the space of the same minute and we hadn’t even made it beyond the first aisle.

Amid shouts, voices, and beeping sounds, we finally found a cart.

“Let’s make a deal” I began, lifting Laura into it. “You sit in here without touching anything, and I take you to the toy aisle to get something pretty”

At this, her eyes widened, and she nodded enthusiastically. _Like all desperate parents I had to use bribery and corruption sometimes._

Laura smiled hugely and made herself comfortable in the basket of the cart as we went down the aisles, past mountains of apples, cereal boxes, toilet paper. More than once she pointed out to objects she'd never seen before, but even when I gave her the words to frame what she was seeing, she refused to say them aloud. I looked down at her and smiled as I reached for the items we needed, she was struggling to keep her hands inside the basket, but the prospect of having a brand-new toy was making her try harder. However, when we got to the snack aisle everything went down the drain. 

I reached under a shelf to pull out a packet of granola bars, and when I turned, Laura was standing in the cart, leaning so far forward that she almost toppled out of it.

“Sit down!” I snapped, shoving her back into the cart before she could unsheathe her claws to reach a packet of _Gansito_ cakes. “NOW!”

She growled and reluctantly obeyed, crossing her arms. I knew her well, I knew that she would stand up and give it another try once I turned around again, so I had no choice but to hand her the orange packet with a smiley duck printed on it and let her open it. 

I was blushing from embarassment as I pushed Laura along the stacked aisles, keen to finish the ordinary task. Her cheeks and fingers were stained with chocolate, the shopping cart full of discarded wraps. Everybody was looking at me like I was the most incompetent mother in the world. I knew that letting her get her way wasn’t good for her education, but she would have plenty of time to learn certain things. Surviving was all that mattered now.

Once our cart was full of snacks, batteries, paper tissues, a toothbrush, a blanket, bottles of water, a pair of girls' clothing sets, socks, and underwear, we headed for the toy aisle. Laura hadn’t kept her part of the deal, but I couldn't bring myself to deny her a toy. 

She leapt out of the cart and immediately got hold of a plastic toy horse and a cute horse-shaped backpack accessory. _She’d always loved horses_. I tried to persuade her to look at some Barbie dolls and stuffed animals, but she clutched the horse to her chest and shook her head stubbornly. 

Five minutes later we were finally at the checkout. There was only one person ahead of us when I stopped the cart, a fat man who was about to pay for several cans of beer. Laura was back in the basket, admiring her new toy. I came round to the front of the cart and began to lift the items onto the conveyor belt, then I turned to take the toy horse from Laura's hands but she whined and tightened her grip. I didn't feel like playing tug-of-war with her, so I rolled my eyes and asked the cashier to find the toy in her database. 

_“Perdón”_ I muttered apologetically to the woman, feeling heat creeping up my cheeks, as her fingers flickered over the keypad. _Trust Laura to embarrass you in public._

I pushed the cart towards the exit and we emerged onto the broad parking lot. The rain had finally stopped. Once we reached our car, I unloaded the grocery bags into the trunk and asked Laura to climb out of the basket, but she pretended she couldn't hear me. The young mutant was enjoying herself and was reluctant to be disturbed. I sighed and lifted her out of the cart myself, noting her irritability. She desperately needed _real_ food and sleep.

By the time we reached the main road, Laura was curled in the back seat, surrounded by empty chip bags and juice cartons, fast asleep. Her cheeks were still stained with chocolate and she was holding her toy horse close to her. The temperature was dropping and her clothes were still a bit damp, so I pulled over and took off her shoes and socks before covering her body with the throw blanket we'd just bought. My eyelids were heavy as I slid back into the driver's seat, so I opened a can of RedBull, took a big gulp, and then drove out of Mexico City.

+++++++

Santiago de Querétaro, or just Querétaro as it's known, is a colonial city steeped in Mexican history. The Spanish took control of it in 1531 and designated it "third city of New Spain". It is a bright, lively, and very clean city. It's just 130 miles north-west of Mexico City and is connected by high-speed modern highways. 

I was driving along a street in the historic colonial center. The driver's side window was open wide. I had tired of searching for tolerable music on the radio and was content with the rush of warm air. The night was lively, locals and tourists alike were walking around the main square to get a glance of the churches and mansions, savoring the local food and discovering little plazas leading off narrow alleys. It was a wonder that there could be so much movement, so much purpose, all the time. 

I pulled into the parking lot of a motel and woke Laura up. She was confused. It took her a moment to realize where she was. 

After we had checked into our room --it was one with a good view of the city outside-- I went to the bathroom to shower and change out of my ruined outfit. Laura was in the bedroom watching cartoons on the TV --I'd left the door ajar so that I could hear her. At the end of the day in which she had come close to getting killed, seen her friends put to sleep, gotten soaked in the rain, and crossed the entire city, she was in need of a hot bath. But by the time I came out of the bathroom Laura was completely unconscious, snoring delicately against the pillows.

I turned off the TV and wiped her chocolate-stained cheeks as gently as possible, before dressing her in one of my cotton t-shirts and tucking her in the double bed. She was so exhausted that she didn't even stir. Then I went to the bathroom --unwillingly-- to wash her Transigen clothes in the small tub. I didn't like them, but we might need them. I had only bought her a sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and two t-shirts; and I certainly wouldn’t put ourselves at risk by going to a supermarket again --or any public place. So we would have to make the best of what we had.

When I finished, I turned the lights off and padded silently into the room before sliding into bed next to Laura. I glanced at her. She was fast asleep, lost in her own little world of dreams, lips slightly parted open. Laura was not a baby anymore, but the joy I got from watching her sleep never changed. No matter how stressed I was or how much I needed to go back to my crummy room in the facility, as soon as her eyes closed I would stay and watch. As her nurse, watching Laura sleep was my one of my greatest rewards, and a sign of a job well done. 

I held her snugly against my chest and she unconsciously drapped her arm around my neck, her soft hair tickling my nose, warmth radiating from her small body. I lay awake for a couple of hours, listening to Laura's quiet breathing. It was begining to dawn on me: we were free at last.

 _If heaven is anywhere, it's right here,_ I thought before finally drifting off to sleep.

++++++++++++++

 _“Gabriela…Gabriela… ¿Ya me puedo levantar?”_ A tiny voice woke me up.

My eyes blinked open. I wasn't home. This wasn't my room. 

I tried to think. I remembered the screams, the crowds. There had been a supermarket, a horse toy. I remembered Laura sleeping in the back seat of a car. _Right_. I glanced to my left, trying to focus my vison. There was a suitcase on the floor, clothes and groceries scattered all over the floor. 

_"¿Gabriela?"_

My eyes traveled upward. Laura was standing next to the bed, looking down at me, blinking. Her hair was all tangled, my t-shirt slipping off her shoulder. I reached over to the bedside table for my phone and stared at it confusedly for a moment.

6:00am.

I frowned. Laura’s internal clock never failed. Then I checked the date. It was Laura’s birthday! _How could I have forgotten?_

I quickly sat up in the bed and took her in my arms, holding her tight. She smelled faintly of chocolate, gasoline, and baby powder.

“Of course you can get up, _amor_ \-- _although you're already up_ ” I let out a delighted laugh, thanking my stars we were still safe and together, before holding her away to peer into her face. “You don’t have to ask for permission anymore. Those days are over” I said softly, running my fingers through her wild hair.

At this, a quiet smile broke on Laura's lips and I tickled her and planted gentle kisses on her cheeks until she squealed and collapsed in giggles. No one would stop me now from giving her affection. There was no Dr. Rice, no Donald Pierce, no guards, no hitmen. I had given up everything to give this young mutant a future. It was my task, my work, more important to me than my personal life, my family, or my job. This child was all I cared about. She was worth the trouble.

There was a lot of laughter before Laura could finally speak.

 _"Vale”_ she finally muttered, distracted, then frowned. _“Oye…_ ” Laura trailed off, playing with a lock of my hair nervously.

“What?” 

_“Es que...”_ she murmured, stalling. 

“What is it, sweetie?” I asked, puzzled. 

_“Es que…háblame en español”_ she finally whispered through unmoving lips, avoiding my gaze, letting her hair fall to conceal her face.

“Why?” I asked, confused, and she gave a shrug.

I shook my head and smiled before leaning forward to plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Ok… I’ll talk to you in Spanish if you reply in English” I said. I had to start encouraging her to speak in English more often. Her life in Mexico was coming to an end and she would need to communicate with others. However, Laura was just too stubborn; once she took a liking to something it was very difficult to change her mind.

And just as I expected, she grimaced and shook her head. _“No, no quiero. No me gusta”_

“Hey, I know that some of the meanest people you’ve met are English-speakers, but that doesn’t mean you cannot like the language." I said through a shrug of my shoulder. "They don’t represent everybody else. Rictor and Bobby and Charlotte like it. Besides, it’s such a beautiful language and an important part of your culture. You’re half Canadian, remember?" 

_“No. Yo soy como tú y mi mamá”_ Laura muttered, her cute face slightly pouting.

“Laura…” I sighed. _This girl was impossible._ It was her second day out in the world and she was already having an identity crisis. “I’m not asking you to give up who you are, I’m just asking you to make an effort --for your own sake. You don’t have to speak in English all the time, but you _do_ have to practice. Besides, _daddy_ will be very sad if he can’t understand you. Do you want him to be sad?”

She pondered, scowling, and then finally lifted up her face to meet my gaze.

 _“No”_ Laura grumbled, letting go of my hair as she did so.

“No what?” I pressed. 

“No…I don’t want him to be sad. I want him to understand me.” she murmured, easily switching to English, as she stared down at her hands.

 _“Esa es mi niña hermosa.”_ I praised her, kissing her head, and then changed the subject. _“¿Sabes qué día es hoy?”_

“No, what day is it today?” Laura asked through a tilt of her head, identity crisis long forgotten.

 _“¡Feliz cumpleaños a ti, feliz cumpleaños a ti…!”_ I began to sing, and her eyes went wide.

“My birthday!” The girl shouted, moving to bounce on the bed. I smiled a bit at her and stood up.

 _“Sí, hoy cumples 11 años.”_ I held my hand out to her but Laura bounced into my arms instead, all her troubles and worries sliding off her shoulders. “Happy birthday, Laura. May all your dreams come true, my girl. You, more than anybody else, deserve to be happy." I said quietly, maybe sadly too, as I looked into her eyes. _"Te quiero hasta la luna… ida y vuelta._ ”

Laura smiled then, with all the love and affection she felt for me. “I love you more” 

I smiled back and put her down, clearing my throat. I didn't want to start getting emotional. My lack of children had been a thorn in my flesh before Laura came into my life, so watching her grow up meant a lot to me. 

“I’m sorry that we can’t get a cake like Delilah’s, but we’ll try to have a good time today, ok?” I offered, blinking back some tears.

Laura gave a nod, still smiling. _“Sí”_

It was then that I noticed that the room was suddenly brighter and warmer. 

“Actually... close your eyes” I said. Laura hesitated for a moment but then did what I asked. "No peeking" I muttered as I guided her towards the window.

"OK, you can open them now" I muttered, pulling back the drapes.

 _"¡El Sol! ¡El Sol!”_ Laura exclaimed expressively, lifting her head to look up at the glowing sky, her eyes wide.

The room looked out on a little plaza. It was small, perfectly round. The graceful balconies were adorned with flowers --pink, yellow, violet, red. There was a wide, round fountain in the center of the plaza, the brilliant sun reflecting off the clear water. Workers were sweeping near the restaurants' entrances, little families were out enjoying the morning air, old ladies were walking toward the church. Real people living real lives. 

“Yes, that’s the sun, baby. That is the sun.” I whispered through a smile, the ordinary place suddenly turning exotic, magnificent, and new, now that I was looking at it through Laura's eyes. From her first day of life, she faced a loss that she will carry with her for the rest of her days. Today, she was facing a handful of other challenges. This child was no snowflake. She was a warrior. And she deserved every ounce of magic that she could get.

We stood in quiet companionship for a long time, taking in the sight as we simply tried to catch the feeling of... _of being_. 

++++++++++++++++

We had less than two hours to leave the motel, so it was time to come back to reality. I gave Laura a much needed bath. It wasn't a warm, relaxing bath because we didn't have much time, but she was finally clean afterwards. An hour later she was dressed, happy, and getting into the back seat of our car. 

I twisted around in my seat and handed Laura a carton of milk, an apple, cookies, and a box of _Froot-Loops --_ knowing full well that the backseat would end up full of crumbs and milk spills-- before starting the car. It would have been nice to have a healthy breakfast in one of the local restaurants and allow Laura to enjoy a cultural experience, but the usual happenings of everyday life belonged to other people. 

It was a nine-hour drive. More than once I found myself trying to stay on the road on our way to Durango. I remembered asking God to take the wheel and get us to the city. My prayers must have been answered because we finally reached a motel. I was so exhausted that I could barely sustain the weight of my coat or bend my stiff arms to unbutton it. I'd only stopped the car once to take Laura to the bathroom, stretch our legs, and get some _tacos al pastor_ at a taco stand after she'd complained of being terribly hungry. The _taquero_ couldn’t believe his eyes, he’d never seen a little girl eat twelve tacos in a row -- _Don’t you ever feed her, ma’am?--_ He'd teased.

Unlike me, Laura had enjoyed herself. She'd seen green forests edging the road, mountains, birds, and other animals. At one point I had to roll up the windows because no matter how many times I asked her not to stick her head out of them, she kept doing it every time she saw something _‘awesome_ ’. My grumpy girl scowled for about an hour, arms crossed, and then fell asleep.

We'd already crossed half the country and that gave me a sense of safety. This motel was smaller than the previous one, but a lot more comfortable and safe. It was an outoftheway place that I'd found on the web. The night was quiet, and the air cold when we arrived.

Laura was very worried that she hadn’t trained in two days, and found it hard to understand when I told her that she didn’t have to anymore; but even though it hurt that she still couldn't let go of Transigen, I asked her to _'teach me'_ some of her moves to make her feel better. However, our 'training session' was a complete failure. Laura ended up on the floor laughing because I was too clumsy to even throw a punch correctly.

"Let's play a different game, I'm too old for this" I said, rubbing my shoulder, when my whole body began to ache. 

She was still giggling as I sliced a Nutella sandwich in half and handed it to her. It was nice to see Laura having fun, she rarely got to be a kid. After heating a glass of milk for her in the little microwave, I sent her to bed. We read one of her comic books while she took sips of her bedtime drink and I had a cup of chamomile tea. She slept like a baby through the night, only getting out of bed once to ask for a glass of water.

The next morning, my little early riser woke me up again at 6am because 'she was bored'. For a moment I was tempted to set her up with some comics in front of the television and go back to sleep, but then I realized that we could make use of the extra time on our hands, and moved to sit up.

Since we left Querétaro, I'd been wanting to change the car for a new one -- _safety measures._ After calling down to the front desk and ask for the breakfast service, I quickly got dressed and raced downstairs to ask one of the maids if there was a place nearby where I could sell my car. The plan was to sell it a lot cheaper in exchange for secrecy: they never met me, and I never made any deals with them. 

Minutes later, a young, slim girl carrying a bunch of pillows told me everything I needed to know, and I went back our room. I wasn't taking Laura with me. I didn’t want anyone to see me with a little girl. Besides, if there was something I had learned that day at Walmart, it was that Laura was not sociable. She was adventurous, a strayer -- _and a very unpredictable person when she was outside._

I shoved the money into my handbag, closed the windows, and put my cardigan on before planting a kiss on Laura’s head. She was currently sitting on the bed, picking at a tray of food in front of her while she watched some Disney movie, totally entranced by the expressive cartoon characters on the screen.

“ _Mi amor_ , I’m going out for a few minutes. I need to get us a new car” I muttered, grabbing the car keys from the bedside table. At this, Laura pushed the tray away and quickly leaped out of the bed.

“ _No, bebé._ I need you to wait for me here.” I said through a sigh when she began to put her shoes on.

 _“No, yo también voy”_ Laura said firmly, rushing to tie her shoelaces before I left without her.

I sighed once more and crouched down next to her, stilling her hand with my own. “Listen, I won’t be long. I need you to stay here because I don’t want anyone to see you. We need to hide, remember?”

Laura bit her lip momentarily before answering, staring at me. 

_“¿Pero sí vas a regresar por mí?”_ she finally asked, her face falling a bit.

I frowned. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

 _“¿Cómo?”_ I laughed without humor. I knew I almost looked mad. “Of course I will come back for you, why wouldn’t I?” 

_“No sé”_ she said through a shrug of her shoulders, quickly dropping her gaze to the beige carpet on the floor.

"Laura, look at me" I said as I grasped her chin, forcing her to look me in the eyes. “No grown up in his right mind would leave a child behind like a dog --I mean, not even dogs deserve to be treated like that! I’d never do that to you, _mi vida_ , not in a million years.” I muttered, looking at Laura intently.

 _"Bueno”_ she said solemnly as she began to take her shoes off.

I watched her carefully. _Why was she so afraid of getting abandoned? Was I doing something wrong?_

"Come here _, hija. Dame un abrazo”_ I squeezed her into a tight bear hug and kissed her cheek before moving to stand. “I'll be right back, I promise"

"Okay" Laura mumbled, still sitting on the floor, her eyes on me.

"Don’t open the door to anyone and don’t go outside. Be a good girl, _te amo_.” I said and then rushed out of the room before I could felt guilty for leaving her alone.

+++++++++

Everything went as planned, the owners of the car place took the money without asking questions and even gave me a spare tire for free. An hour later, I was driving a used Toyota Corolla, speeding back towards the motel. The money was rapidly slipping away, but I was hoping that Logan would be able to help us before it was all gone. Laura hadn't mentioned her dad since we'd left Transigen, not once, and I wondered if it was her way of telling me that she wasn't ready to meet him yet. To be honest, I wasn't ready either. 

I pulled into the empty parking lot and got out of the car, feeling guilty once again for leaving Laura on her own. I hurried up the stairs to the room, keen to keep my promise of being back as soon as possible. I pushed the door open and listened, scanning the small space. It was silent. The air and light in the room told me that Laura was asleep -- _except that_ _the bed was empty_. 

_“¿Laura?”_ I frowned as I took off my cardigan and crossed the room, stepping over Laura's toy horse. Just as I was feeling an unpleasant lightness in the feet, I heard a loud thud.

 _“¡Estoy aquí!”_ Laura shouted from the bathroom. 

I prepared to release a sigh, but when I walked into the bathroom, the scene in front of me cut my feeling of relief short. Apparently, leaving the girl on her own had been a terrible idea. She was clinging to the rim of the tub, wearing my cotton shirt, soaking wet from head to toe. All of her clothes --including her shoes-- were submerged in it. 

_“¡Qué estás haciendo!”_ I yelled. She turned her head to look at me, a grin of pleasure washing over her face. The tub was almost overflowing. 

_“Lavando mi ropa”_ she replied casually as she lifted one of her t-shirts to show me. It was then that I saw our bottle of shampoo floating on the water --she’d emptied it. I sighed loudly, refraining myself from swearing in front of her.

“Why are you washing your clothes, baby. They were already clean!” I said, trying not to lose it.

She shook her head, pouring the last of the shampoo into the tub. _“No, se me cayó cátsup en la playera y vine a limpiarla. Y ya que andaba en eso, pues mejor me traje toda mi ropa para lavarla de una vez y ayudarte”_ Laura explained, quite proud of herself.

Right…she’d spilled ketchup on her shirt and decided to wash it in the tub. And since she was already washing a t-shirt, she thought it would be a good idea to wash all of her clothes and spare me the trouble.

“ _Gra…Gracias, nena._ You shouldn’t have bothered” I managed, forcing a thin smile of gratitude to my lips. _You really shouldn’t have…_

 _“De nada”_ she replied nonchalantly, splashing water on the floor. I shook my head and plucked a towel off the sink before walking over to her.

“Get up, baby” she moved to stand and I rubbed her hair with the towel. “Arms up.” I instructed, pulling the wet, oversized t-shirt upward and off her.

 _"¿Te dieron el carro?"_ she asked as I wrapped the towel around her body.

"Yes, we have a new car" I smiled, and then lifted her off the floor and took her to the bedroom. “Stay here and watch TV while I pack our things, ok?” I said, sitting her on the edge of the bed. “You’ve already helped me enough, _mi vida._ ”

“ _Ok... de nada_ ” she replied through a cute smile, clutching the ends of the towel together. _At least she cared about others._

I spent the next hour squeezing the water out of her clothes and shoving the rest of our belongings into the small suitcase, thanking God that Laura had flooded the bathroom and not destroyed the furniture with her claws. Two hours later, a barefoot Laura was buckled up in the back seat, wearing another oversized shirt as a dress, and enjoying a granola bar. It was time to hit the road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Here Comes The Sun", The Beatles.


	9. Pesadillas

****"We made these memories for ourselves**  
 **Where our eyes are never closing**  
 **Hearts are never broken**  
 **And time's forever frozen still...** "

A jet of very hot air was blowing against my face. I reached forward and pushed and pulled at the ventilation controls, but it was useless. All irritable and hot, I took off my cardigan and threw it over my shoulder onto the back seat. The closer we got to Juárez, the hotter and dryer the road became. Laura was getting fussy and bored because all the greenery was starting to disappear and there wasn’t much to see. I'd turned on the radio to entertain her, but the novelty of listening to music and local news wore off after only two hours. I tried to show her how to drive a car, but my explanation didn't help much to ease her boredom -- _she wasn't even paying attention_.

Also, Laura was beginning to miss her friends. Transigen might have been hell on earth, and Laura was looking forward to meeting Logan, but those children were all the family she’d ever had, so it was no wonder that she wanted to be with them. 

_“¿Cuándo voy a ver a Rictor, a Charlotte, a Bobby y a los demás?”_ she growled, trying to climb over the seat belt strap as she looked out the window with distaste. Maybe I should have driven down the Pacific Coast. 

_“Luego de que encontremos a tu papá y nos ayude a llegar a Eden_.” I sighed heavily, looking ahead at the road. “Be patient, child, you’ll see them very soon. Have faith that everything will be alright.”

Maybe the last part was intended for me. I wasn’t sure if her friends had been as lucky as her, I didn’t even know if she would ever see them again. But children or no children, I had to take her to her father. He had the right to know that this child was his daughter, and he was the only person in the world who could guide her and protect her the way she needed. I loved Laura very much, more than my own life, but I could never understand what it was like to be a mutant.

I was convinced that Eden was the safest place for Laura and her friends, but if once we got there Logan decided to take her somewhere else, I would have to pass her off to him. It would be hard to let her go, and I would fear for her safety, but he was the parent. However, right now I was Laura's guardian and I had to do what was best for her. I had to take her to that haven where Transigen could not touch her. We were on a race against time.

"Don't even think about it." I said when I heard a metallic sound. "I'm going to be very mad if you cut that strap and leave blood stains on your new jeans" 

I looked in my rearview mirror. She was scowling, running her claws lightly along the seat belt strap, pushing my buttons.

"Retract them, please" I said firmly, but she ignored me. Laura had been relatively easy to discipline until she underwent that grueling surgery. 

"I mean it, Laura" I threatened, now obviously upset. "They're not a toy"

 _"Son mías"_ she retaliated, admiring the shiny adamantium.

"I don't care if they're yours. Keep playing funny and you'll see when we get to Juárez"

Laura knew that my threats were never idle, so she rolled her eyes and immediately retracted her claws.

 _"Gracias, mi amor"_ I muttered "Now look in your backpack, I put a surprise in there for you”

Her scowl instantly vanished and was replaced by a grin as she grabbed her backpack and eagerly began to rummage through it.

 _“¡Una foto!”_ Laura exclaimed, pulling out the photo we'd taken on Delilah’s birthday.

“Yes, remember that day?” I asked, and she nodded enthusiastically. “Every time you miss your friends you can look at it. That’s the good thing about memories, you know? You can replay them in your mind over and over again"

“ _Este fue un día muy feliz, ¿verdad?_ ” she pointed out as her eyes flitted over the faces of her friends.

“ _Sí, muy feliz_. That was such a happy day. Turn it over."

“ _¿Le anotaste las coordenadas de Eden?_ ” Laura asked through a tilt of her head, staring at the date and coordinates I’d written on the back of the photo.

“Yes, to remind you that Delilah’s birthday was a happy day, but even happier ones are waiting for all of you out there. Fight for that future, _amor mío_ , believe it’s going to happen.” 

Laura looked up at me and I passed her a box of tissues to wipe the blood off her hand. "Push that red button to unbuckle your seat belt and come sit next to me for a while. Nobody is looking" I said through a wink.

Seconds later, Laura was riding in the front seat, staring at the photo of her friends, lost in thought.

Delilah's birthday 'party' was certainly a memory that made Laura stop and smile. If there was one thing I'd learned from Laura and her friends it's that childhood is inherently magical, even when it isn't perfect. My childhood wasn't perfect and we weren't rich by any stretch of the imagination, but my birthdays were still happy because we popped balloons, ran around in the backyard, and had cake. I did not feel as if I lacked for anything. Hopefully, Laura would look back on that day and recall what it felt like to have carefree fun.

++++++++++++++++++++

We should have been in my mother’s house by mid afternoon, but driving for seven hours in a hot car with a tired eleven-year-old had forced me to pull into a motel --once again-- to get some rest.

The heat was so scorching during the night that Laura only got three or four hours of good sleep. She rolled over and kicked off the covers --and me-- more times than I cared to remember. After having one of the most uncomfortable nights of our lives and spending all morning on the road, we finally made it to Ciudad Juárez.

The only flowers we saw on the short street were irises on window ledges. The little squares of lawn were baked earth from which even the dried grass had flaked away. Someone had planted out a row of cacti out of their house. The few people walking down the street, carrying shopping bags, looked sunstruck. I wondered, as I did each time I was here, how there could be so little noise and life in a street where there were so many houses. This was one of the reasons I'd moved to Mexico City, this town was too quiet and hot for me. Not to mention that its high crime rates gave the whole country an unfair reputation.

This was my parents' last house, and the only one they had been able to furnish to their own taste. And even if it was small, old, and abandoned, I hadn’t felt so safe in years. All about were objects collected from trips and fairs, things put away in boxes and stored for years until 'they had more space'. My mother's collection of wooden figurines was still on the sideboard. My father's trophies were still in place. There was still that blend of familiar smells floating in the air--roses, dust, soap, fruit. It was amazing, the ease with which a whole past could be fitted in one room. I just smiled, putting down the suitcase. I was home. 

Forty minutes later Laura was sitting on the kitchen counter, chattering on, as I simmered the vegetables and chicken I'd gotten from a little grocery store around the corner. I had bought a packet of alphabet soup to entertain her, but she wasn't the kind of girl that toyed with her food. She liked eating it, not looking at it.

When the rich, warm smell of chicken soup began to float round the kitchen and fill our nostrils, I removed my apron and put the food on the small wooden table behind me, proud to be finally feeding Laura a healthy meal and not something out of a can. The numerous small anxieties associated with cooking and the way that Laura was enjoying her first home-cooked meal ever, animated my soul. I even let her drink the soup from the bowl.

“Don’t eat so fast, _bebé._ ” I said, rising from my chair.

“ _Es que tengo mucha hambre y esto está muy rico._ ” she said, wiggling, as I leaned down to wipe her mouth. 

“You like it more than Cuquita’s rice?” I joked.

“ _¡Mil veces más!_ ” Laura practically shouted before taking a big gulp of _agua de limón_.

I laughed at her enthusiasm. “Ok, but try to slow down or you’ll feel sick...and wipe your mouth.”

Once she finished her meal and brushed her teeth, Laura sat on the couch and pulled her comic books out of her backpack. Being in a safe, homely space seemed to be having a positive effect on her. I asked her to read aloud while I prepared our room so that she could practice her English, but by the time I finished changing the sheets, she was already curled up on the couch, asleep. I smiled down at her and carried her to my parents' bedroom. She was getting heavier, which was a good thing. I covered her body with her pink fluffy blanket and then went back to the living room.

There was a strange silence in the house for a few minutes. I wasn't sure if I liked it. These last few days with Laura had made me realize that I didn't want to be alone anymore. I dug through my hand bag and pulled out my phone. This was the perfect time to continue my video testimonial. Laura wasn’t seeing me, so I didn’t have to pretend that everything was alright. Her easy chatter, our little power struggles, and her innocent curiosity about the world made it easy to forget that we were running away. I fought to control my breathing, feeling weak in the legs, as I opened the camera and sat on the floor. 

“My name is Gabriela López." I began nervously. "I am a nurse, and for ten years I worked for Transigen Research in Mexico City. Transigen is owned by an American company. They told us we were part of a pharmaceutical study, but that was a lie. These children were born in Transigen, they were born here, and have never left. They’ve never seen the sun or the ocean, rain, or snow, or any of God’s creatures. They have no birth certificates, no names --besides the ones we have given them. They were raised in the bellies of Mexican girls, girls no one can find anymore…”

My voice broke as images of Laura’s teenage mother flashed through my mind. I didn't like thinking about her. It was too much for me. I just couldn't.

“…their fathers are _semillas genéticas_ \--special seeds in bottles. They thought we were too poor and stupid to understand. We’re poor, yes, but we are not stupid. This is business, they are making soldiers, killers…these are babies of _mutantes muertos_ …”

A sharp scream coming from my parents' bedroom startled me. Acting on instinct, I dropped the phone and raced into said room. Laura was kicking, grunting, and flailing her arms in her sleep -- _she was having a vivid nightmare_. I quickly grabbed her wrists and shoved them above her head before she could unsheathe her claws. I did this every time I identified the slightest sign that she was having a bad dream in order to protect myself and the objects around her. Apart from being selectively mute, Laura also suffered from REM sleep behavior disorder, which caused her to act out dreams that were intense or violent. The other nurses couldn't believe that I dared to sleep next to her during her depressive episodes after the surgery, but I assured them that I could always tell when a nightmare was coming. 

“ _¡Laura!_ Wake up!” I shouted, pinning her down. It wasn't easy, Laura was too strong. “ _Despierta, está bien, está bien_ …” I mumbled over and over again, leaning down to press my cheek against hers. She was really agitated, her forehead glistening with sweat. I hated to see my girl like this.

Laura’s nightmares were truly terrifying. Sometimes she could not describe them to me but it was clear they contained elements familiar from her assessment sessions --dark rooms, needles, blood, limb restraints; faceless monsters who cut her, beat her senseless, and broke her bones.

"Shhhh, shhhh. Open your eyes, _amor.”_ I muttered gently, waiting for her cries to subside. “It’s ok…it’s fine… the monster’s gone. I’m here.” 

“ _¿Gabriela?_ ” she finally murmured as her eyes fluttered open.

 _"Sí, aquí estoy, mi niña, aquí estoy”_ I said quietly. The poor girl stifled a sob, so I let go of her wrists and pulled her into my arms, rubbing her back. 

_“Soñé que los mataban…”_ she began, breathing heavily _“…_ _a Bobby y Rictor…a Delilah y también a ti… y que no podía salir de Transigen nunca._ ”

“Shhh, shhh. It’s ok, it’s ok. It was only a dream…nobody killed us, we managed to get out." I muttered, rocking her like a baby. I could feel her little heart thumping. "You are never going back to that place, Laura. It’s ok… _solo fue una pesadilla._ ” I held her tight until her breathing evened out. If her body had felt heavy earlier, now it felt weightless, small, and fragile. It was several minutes before Laura managed to get a grip on herself.

 _“¿Cuándo me vas a llevar con mi papá?”_ she suddenly asked, pulling back to look at my face. Her question hurt a little. For the first time since we escaped, Laura was bringing up her father... and she was implying that she'd rather be with him.

I stared at her face. She was pale and tired-looking, like she hadn't slept or eaten in days. The trauma of the whole experience was starting to take its toll on the young mutant. The girl was slowly realizing that the world was beautiful, but also big, scary, and daunting. She no longer believed she was safe beneath the covers cuddling against her nurse. Laura now wanted her strong, unkillable dad to protect her. 

“Very soon, _hija_." I mumbled, brushing a shiny strand of damp brown hair away from her face, peering deep into her sorrowful dark eyes. "I’m already looking for him. Don’t worry…you'll be with your dad very, very soon.” 

Which was true, I had been checking the fan website, and Logan was still driving his limo in El Paso. I’d also found three taxi companies located in that city that had a 2024 Chrysler limousine registered in their database. I just needed to call them and make inquiries about the drivers.

I knew that Laura rarely went back to sleep after having a nightmare, so I gave her a cup of hot herbal tea to calm her nerves and then sent her out to the small backyard while I made a couple of phone calls. I took my handbag and pulled out the wrinkled piece of paper Tom had left on my doorstep months ago.

_55-28-58-99 -- **VISAS**_

I stared at the number, doubts jumping up like demons in front of my eyes. This was definitely not legal. It couldn't be. If Customs intercepted us, it would be over.

I sighed, pondering our options. Laura was strong and fast enough to cross the desert without getting caught by the border patrol. She was good at reading maps, she had a healing factor, she had heightened senses, _she was clever_. I could give her the money and the phone, give her instructions. El Paso wasn't that far, _she could find Logan_.

I ran a hand through my hair in exasperation and turned to the window. Laura was crouching down, staring at a caterpillar with evident curiosity, clutching her rubber ball tightly in both hands. I shook my head. What was I thinking? _She was just a child, for chrissakes!_ She had the strenght, but not the experience. I could never leave my Laura alone. 

Reaching into my pocket, I drew out my phone and carefully dialed the number.

 _“¿Bueno?”_ A woman’s voice said on the other line. After my experience at the car dealership back in Mexico City, I knew what I should say first.

 _"Hola. Habla Gabriela López…”_ I began, but on hearing my name, the woman cut me off. _It worked._

“ _Sí_. _Espere”_ she said flatly. Over the phone I could hear her pacing around the room, opening drawers and rummaging through them. _“Sí, mire. Sus datos ya los tenemos, solo necesito que me mande una foto de usted y otra de la menor, tomada con fondo blanco y viendo a la cámara._ _¿Qué apellido le ponemos a ella?”_ she asked.

It seemed like they already had my personal information and only needed our pictures and a surname for Laura. If I was going to pass her off as my daughter I couldn’t say _Howlett_ or they might inquire at the border why the girl had an American surname and yet she needed a visa. No, the less suspicious, the better.

“Laura Ontiveros López” I said. Her biological mother’s surname and mine would do. There was a brief silence before the woman spoke again.

“ _Ok. Mande las fotos a este mismo número y anote la siguiente dirección_ …” she finally instructed. 

I pulled a pen and a piece of paper from one of the kitchen drawers and wrote down the address where I had to pick up the visas.

 _“¿En cuánto tiempo puedo recogerlas?”_ I inquired hesitantly as I looked around the empty kitchen, biting my lip. We needed them as soon as possible.

 _“Mañana después de las 4”_ The woman replied, and I made a face. The visas would be ready tomorrow after 4pm. I opened my mouth to ask if they could maybe have them ready tonight, but the 'lady' hung up on me. _Great._

I put the phone back into my pocket and headed toward the backyard. Laura was playing with her ball, her knees and t-shirt caked in dirt.

"Don't kneel on the ground, baby" I said, brushing the dirt from her jeans. _I would have to wash her clothes later._ "Stand over there, I'm going to take a picture of you"

After sending our pictures to the woman, I went inside to clean the kitchen and wash the dishes. There was no TV in the living room, so Laura decided to stay in the backyard throwing her ball and 'looking for worms'. She had no great taste for human contact and enclosed worlds. Her intelligence thrived on the complexities of puzzles and fantasy. She was a hoarder of inexplicable objects, a keeper of secrets, a lover of strange stories.

I sighed, wishing I could have a little time for myself, as I grabbed an empty glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. I'd barely had time to take a shower this morning, and my outfit consisted of a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt. Also, I was exhausted, and taking a nap was out of the question. I still had to get rid of our car and buy a new one. This time I wouldn't exchange the car for secrecy --we were too close to the border to trust anyone-- I would simply abandon it somewhere. If any of the nurses had accidentally spilled the beans, Transigen surely knew by now that we were trying to get into the U.S, and most importantly, that Laura --their key weapon-- was with me.

I quickly scrubbed the glass clean in the sink and placed it upside down in the counter, before removing my apron. I didn’t want to leave Laura on her own --not after the tub incident-- but the less she was seen outside, the better. I dried my hands with a cloth and went out into the glare of the backyard.

“Laura. I’m going out to get a new car.” I said, and she turned her head around to me in exasperation.

 _“¿Otro?”_ she whined, leaning down to pick up her ball.

“Yes, another one.” I muttered. “ _No me tardo nada_. Get inside, please.” 

I ushered her into the living room before grabbing her comic books from the table.

“I want you to read them out loud, one by one, until I come back." I instructed, handing her the comics. "If you need to go to the bathroom, you may go, but afterwards, I want you to go back to the couch and keep reading” _Maybe this way I wouldn’t find the house flooded…_ “Don’t go outside, don’t open the door. And if, God forbids, someone from... you know... breaks in and wants to take you, you kill them, ok?”

 _“¡Qué!”_ she exclaimed loudly, almost dropping the comics, looking at me in disbelief. Her reaction didn't suprise me. I’d never encouraged her to kill anybody, not even _them_. She knew how much I hated when she took lives. _“Pero tú dijiste--”_ Laura mumbled, obviously confused.

“Forget what I said before” I interrupted her, taking hold of her shoulders. “Things have changed, and your life comes first. If they come for you, you bring out those adamantium claws of yours and kill them all. Do you hear me?"

 _"¿También a Pierce?"_ she asked, half-afraid.

"Even him. Anyone who wants to hurt you" I said firmly. "Then you cross to EL Paso, Texas --the map is in your backpack-- and call this number.” I showed her the piece of paper with the three possible companies Logan might be working for. “Tell them -- _in English--_ that you want to talk to one of their limo drivers, James Howlett. Not Wolverine, or Logan, or _daddy_ , or _papá._ JAMES HOWLETT, ok? If they don’t have any driver under that name, try calling the two other phone numbers right--” 

_“No puedo llamar.”_ Laura said quickly, talking over me. At this, I stopped and shot her an irritated look.

“What do you mean you can’t call them, Laura!!” I groaned in exasperation, dropping my arms. 

I instantly regretted my words. In all of Laura's body only her eyes moved, widening in shock as they stared into mine, hurt and confusion flashing across her face, as though the Gabriela she knew and loved was nowhere to be found. The atmosphere became dark and heavy, and the tension in Laura’s body was so great she was holding her breath without being aware of doing so.

 _Shit_. 

“Oh, God" I breathed, closing my eyes for an instant. "Sorry, baby, I forgot. I’m so stupid, I’m sorry, I'm sorry.” I muttered into her forehead as I planted tiny kisses on it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, I’m so dumb. _Perdóname, mi chiquita hermosa.._. I know you can’t, it’s ok. It's ok." I whispered, wrapping my arms tightly around her, feeling terribly guilty.

 _“Perdón…”_ Laura murmured, blaming herself. 

“No, don’t be sorry, _cielo._ It’s not your fault, I’m the one who forgot. _¿Me perdonas?_ " I asked, holding her away to catch her eyes, and she nodded, still a little bewildered.

I took the comic books from her hands and set them back on the table. "In fact…get your jacket. You’re coming with me.”

 _How could I forget that tiny detail?_ I couldn’t leave her on her own until I had Logan’s number and she could text him if she needed help. _What was I thinking?_ This goddamn ordeal was definitely getting the best of me. I was a bundle of nerves.

++++++++++++++++

It took us less than an hour to abandon the old car near a garbage dump and get a new one at a car place near the border. They didn’t have much to choose from and we were running out of money, so we got a small, bluish FIAT --Laura's choice. When we got back home, I called the three companies Logan might be working for. It took two attempts but in the end I got his number.

I had finally found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Photograph", Ed Sheeran.


	10. Daddy

****"I love you, I have loved you all along, and I miss you**   
**Been far away for far too long**   
**I keep dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go..."**

Laura and I spent the evening reading a story book she'd found in one of the boxes and making a small a cake to celebrate her eleventh birthday. We didn’t have candles, but she didn’t mind, she was just happy to have an overdue birthday treat. After our little celebration, I went into my old bedroom to change the sheets, clean it, and make it comfortable for Laura. It was a two-bedroom house, so there was no need for her to stay with me tonight. I opened the door and turned on the light. The room had an air of old-fashioned poverty --yellowing walls, bare boards, no pictures, no ornaments, or soft chairs. No evidence of a past. There was still a garbage bag full of my stuff lying on the matress of the single wooden bed. It smelled damp.

I remained standing for a moment on the door, testing my feelings. The old, familiar bedroom suddenly seemed bitter, sad, harsh beyond reason. 

I cleared my throat noisily to hear my own voice before turning the light off and closing the door. In the hall Laura came towards me talking loudly, holding up the toy horse. I bent to kiss her forehead, taking comfort from her presence, and led her into my parents' room. After supervising the girl while she took a shower in the tiny bathroom, we brushed our teeth and climbed into bed. It bothered me a little that I couldn't bring myself to send her to the other room. I really needed to get a good night's sleep. 

We lay side by side, unable to speak our thoughts, reluctant even to acknowledge that we were awake. The silence was gaining in volume, an awkward silence. We were still for twenty minutes, sinking, until Laura finally spoke.

“ _Gabriela…_ ” she whispered.

 _“¿Qué, amor?”_ I muttered to the ceiling. 

“Mmmm….” she trailed off, clutching the blankets nervously to her. Transigen had taught Laura that her feelings and needs didn’t matter, and she sometimes felt embarassed to talk about certain things.

“You can’t sleep?” I asked, trying to guess what she was thinking.

“No, I can’t.” Laura admitted. That took me by surprise. _She was speaking in English?_

I rolled onto my side and propped my head up on my hand, glancing down at her.

“Why not? Are you having _pesadillas_ again?” I frowned.

“ _No…es que…_ ” Her voice trailed off once more, she was desperately trying to find the right words.

I sighed heavily as I sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. Looking after Laura was a delight, but also a lesson in patience.

 _“¿Qué pasa, mi niña?”_ I asked quietly, running my hand through her hair. 

“What if I can’t speak around my dad?” she blurted, pulling the blankets over her face.

Oh, the incident from earlier had her worried --and with good reason.

Transigen never treated her condition because they thought it was unnecessary --they just didn’t care-- and it only got worse and worse each year. She'd just turned eleven, in a couple of years she would no longer be a child. Left untreated, Laura ran the risk of becoming an isolated and frustrated teenager. I worried about her future, I worried a lot. Being selectively mute wasn’t her only issue. _What would become of her if for some unfortunate reason she ended up facing life on her own?_ Mute, alone, emotionally disturbed, a mutant, a girl, and Latina. Her origins and troubled past put her at a clear disadvantage. Laura could easily fall victim to drugs and prostitution.

I reached down and pulled the blanket off her face. “You'll speak. There’s no reason for you to feel nervous around your father. He’s a good man” I said through a smile, although I knew it was far more complicated than that. Selective mutism is a kind of phobia, and often is the very people that the child wants to speak to the most, that they find it the hardest to speak to. But I could not predispose Laura by telling her this.

“Yes, but what if--” she was saying, settling her eyes on mine. 

“Don’t worry.” I cut her off as I stroked her face. “If that happens, I’ll explain everything to him” _And make him get you a speech therapist when we’re safe_. “Is that why you’re practicing your English?” I asked.

“Yes" she muttered through a shrug of her shoulders, before adding warily, _"Mmm... ¿Pero y si no puedo y se enoja conmigo?”_

“No, _mi amor_. He won’t get mad at you if you don’t talk. And when you finally do, he’ll be very happy to hear your voice.” I said, trying to quell her insecurities as I turned off the light and relaxed down into the pillow. “And I’ll still be around to look after you.” I added softly.

She solemnly nodded and we lapsed back into silence. I hoped whatever thoughts she was immersed in were easing her burdens.

“Gabriela _…"_ she muttered as my eyelids drooped. 

_"¿Qué_ , _nena?"_ I mumbled sleepily, finding her hand. It was hot, unbearably so.

"Sing to me, like before..." 

This journey had been so challenging on so many levels that I hadn’t paid much attention to her emotional needs. Laura’s life had drastically changed a few days ago; she’d lost her family, and she was about to meet her father. And once she was with Logan, I would have to step back and allow him to set his own rules for her. She’d have to learn that Gabriela wouldn’t save her if her dad said _no_ ; that Gabriela wouldn’t come if daddy wanted to spend some time alone with her, and that he might even get a mom for her one day and that wouldn’t be me.

Big changes were yet to come and, whereas she didn’t know it yet, she could sense it, and that filled her with fear. As strange as it might sound, there was a part of her that still wanted to be the Laura trapped in her cell with nurse Gabriela by her side, rocking her to sleep. I just prayed that Logan would be able to understand all that she’d been through and give her all the fatherly love she was craving for.

 _“Muñequita linda, de cabellos negros…”_ I began to sing as she rested her head against my chest. _“…dime si me quieres como yo te quiero, si de mi te acuerdas como yo de ti…”_

Eventually, Laura closed her eyes, and I allowed myself to drift off into a light restless sleep. 

++++++++++++

We had no trouble finding the shabby pink house where we had to pick up our American visas. It was nestled in between an alley way and a neglected auto repair shop where a melon-bellied man in greasy jeans was leaning against an old volkswagen. It had been raining all day, the hot spell temporarily over. Laura was in the back seat, nursing a sugary drink. Following her broken night and this expedition, she would be needing sleep by early evening. Then I could be sure of uninterrupted time to finish my testimonial.

There was no need to go inside or even get out of the car. An old lady in a yellow dress was standing in front of the house, pallid and short, looking about her with distaste.

 _"¿Gabriela López?"_ she asked, expresionless, when the car pulled up, and I gave a nod.

The woman walked across the mud and round the litter-crammed puddles to where the car was parked. Without saying another word, she shoved a wrinkled hand deep into the pocket of her dress and handed me a small envelope, then she turned around and went back into her house. I ignored her weird attitude and opened the envelope, before taking out the glossy visas. These people had done a great job. The accuracy was amazing. I narrowed my eyes, they were definitely not fake. They most likely came from a kind of black market within the American Embassy.

I smiled lightly and drove straight to the house, feeling an odd surge of relief. By the time we reached our destiny, Laura was half-asleep, knees drawn up to her chest. I looked at her with absent-minded satisfaction -- _my calculations were never wrong_. She walked slowly, somnambulanty into the house. 

_"Aquí"_ she said sleepily, curling up on the couch when I tried to send her to my parents' bedroom to take her nap. She was afraid of having nightmares again if she slept alone.

" _No, bebé_. I need the living room to myself." I muttered. Feeling tremendously terrible for doing this, I got hold of her wrist and pulled her out of the couch before taking her to the bedroom. 

"Here" I said, handing her the toy horse. "Hold it close, it'll chase away bad dreams"

Thankfully, Laura was too tired to argue, and she simply clutched the toy to her chest and rolled onto her side. Once she was asleep, I closed the door behind me and went back to the living room. 

“As the children became older, they became more difficult.” I began, holding the phone nervously, as though someone was watching me. Fears aren’t always easy to overcome, and Transigen had left its mark on me too. “They could not be controlled. The company made their bodies into weapons, tried to teach them to kill, but they did not want to fight. A soldier who will not fight is useless… “

I paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept over me. Their plan of considering new options --a new weapon-- had been as clear as water. All the signs were there. I shouldn’t have ignored Dr. Johnson’s words that day. We could have saved them all...

“...Inside this building they are working on something new, something they think is better than the children, something they say is…without a soul. They must have been successful. About a week ago they told us to shut our program down. They started putting the children to sleep…” I mumbled, cringing at the memory --Valeria’s screams, Pierce dragging children along the corridors, little dead bodies on gurneys. "We are going to save as many children as we can. I read about a place up north, a place for mutants. They call it EDEN.”

I suddenly didn't know what else to say. I hadn't been able to grieve the loss of the other kids, of everything I'd left behind. Beyond the dark circles under my eyes and other physical signs, Laura had seen nothing of my sorrow. I didn't want to add to her pain.

I checked the clock, I still had an hour before Laura woke up and asked for food. This video testimonial should be enough; Laura had her claws and I had the footage to prove what I was saying. I could explain the rest to Logan once we found him. And one day, the world would know the truth about Transigen. 

After doing some editing, I went into the kitchen to make _quesadillas_ \--they were an easy, quick meal, and Laura liked them. I turned to the window, it was already dark outside; the rain had drifted away, but the air was strong. As I waited for the cheese to melt, I unlocked my phone and checked the Wolverine fan website. My heart skipped a beat. There was a new post.

_“Hey guys! Sadly, my grandfather passed away a few days ago. We’re burying him tomorrow morning at Greenwood Cemetery in El Paso. My aunt asked me to hire a limo for the service, and guess what? The company had a 2024 Chrysler available, so I obviously picked that one. I’ll let you know if I get lucky!”_

_Perfecto_. I couldn’t waste this opportunity. It could or it could not be, either way, we had to give it a try. I threw the quesadillas into a plastic container and raced into the living room to stuff our few belongings in the suitcase, then I carried it towards the car and loaded it into the trunk. A mixture of fear and excitement was thumping through my veins. Somewhere inside my head a voice was telling me that we would finally meet Logan. I turned off all the lights and went into my parents' room to get his baby girl.

It was time to say goodbye to Mexico _lindo y querido_.

++++++

El Paso and Ciudad Juárez lie together uncomfortably like an estranged couple, surrounded on all sides by mountains and desert. The cities are separated by the thin trickle of the Río Grande. One side is Texas; the other; Mexico. The border's way of life --its business, legitimate and otherwise-- has always relied upon the circumvention of this dividing line. Tonight, it was practically desolate. My heart was pounding in my ears as I handed the officer our 'fake' visas. It seemed like an eternity before he gave them back to me and said, _“Welcome_ ”.

Yes, fortune was on our side.

The two cities were so close that I could sit on a park bench in El Paso and watch laundry wave behind a whitewashed house on a Juárez hillside. The grotesque disparity was alarming, and even if El Paso seemed calm, safe, and prosperous, I had a bad feeling about this city. It was eerily quiet, somewhat hostile.

We were moving slowly across the first road signs -- _in English--_ when, as though echoing my thoughts, Laura stared out the window and warily asked, _"¿Dónde estamos?"_

Until now, she had not felt the need to ask where we were or where I was taking her.

"We are in the U.S" I simply replied. Instantly, the viscosity of the air altered, and her energy turned dark and heavy -- _less innocent_. Perceptive as she was, Laura knew that this was something big, that she was leaving a part of her behind. Something she would probably never get back.

We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew Laura was there. There were times on the way to the motel when I thought to myself, _'I won't always be doing this'._ But I wasn't sure. For now all I had to do was drive and let circumstances look after themselves. One day, I might, or might not, get my life back.

The motel was dull, shabby, and so neglected that the neon sign that announced _Liberty Motel_ was failing. But it was cheap and well-hidden. I sighed as Laura and I made our way over to the cluttered check-in desk. 

"Good evening. A room, please" I muttered.

The owner was a fat, nosy, greedy woman whose eyes widened when I pulled the envelope full of dollars out of my handbag.

"Forty dollars" she replied flatly through a scowl, barely making eye contact with me, keen to calculate the amount of cash inside the envelope. I was so concentrated on counting the money that I didn't notice that Laura was taking inventory of the objects around her.

"No, no, no!" The owner suddenly shouted, her face turning crimson, as Laura reached for the open sex magazine lying on the desk. "That's not for kids" she grumbled, desperately reaching across the desk to get it back.

I bit back a smile. The woman's chubby arms were too short, and my girl was clutching the thick magazine to her chest, obviously thinking it was some kind of comic book.

 _"No toques nada, mi cielo."_ I muttered as I took it from Laura's hands, hoping she hadn't seen anything inappropiate.

The fat woman practically snatched the magazine --and the money-- from my hands, before giving me the key to our room. I thought I heard her mumble something like, _'We speak English here'_ as we were leaving the crummy office, and at this I rolled my eyes, taking Laura's hand.

The small room was equipped with a double bed, a desk, a wooden chair, and a tiny bathroom with a window. The floor was dirty, and the almost inexistent furniture was old and shabby. I didn’t trust that woman, so I hid my phone and cash --not much anymore-- behind one of the broken sides of the nightstand.

After Laura ‘helped me’ unpack --she pretty much just threw everything on the floor-- we tried to make ourselves at home once more.

++++++

8:30am.

I struggled to come out of my heavy slumber, the patter of something on the window ledge had woken me up. I checked the clock. It was late, and I was still in my clothes from yesterday. Letting out a loud groan, I rose stiffly and stagered to the window, pulling back the drapes. Rain was falling heavily, the agressive tapping was the only noise in the little motel room. I turned to the bed. Laura was sleeping in, barely more than a speck among the tangle of sheets. Her anxiety had increased the moment we’d stepped into this God-forsaken place, and I feared it was because I was anxious too. 

There had been nightmares through the night. Several times I had turned on the light to comfort her. She'd lay wakeful till well after dawn, and it was only after she drank a glass of powdered milk and listened to a story of when I spent my holidays in Tulum that she could finally fall asleep. I took a moment to study her face, she was frowning. Laura had woken me in the middle of the night to tell me that she was hearing a voice in her head, an old man’s voice. _'He kinda knows where we are. He knows things.'_ she'd said. That really freaked me out. I didn’t need this child going out of her mind, creating imaginary friends, or even having ' _Shining'_ among her mutations, so I'd simply told her it must have been a dream. 

I ignored the shiver running down my spine and knelt in front of the suitcase, before pulling out some clothes. The graveyard mentioned in the post was not that far from the motel, so it wouldn’t take long to get there. I didn't want to wake Laura --the little girl was exhausted-- but I had no choice. Logan's fanboy had not provided much information; he'd let us know that his grandfather's burial was going to take place this morning, but he never specified the hour. We had to get to the cemetary as soon as possible and keep our eyes open.

 _“Laura”_ I muttered, shaking her gently. She was wearing a tank top too big for her. _“Despierta, nena. Ya nos vamos”_

She rolled over and said something which was lost to the pillows. I put my hands under the bedclothes and massaged her back. "Laura"

 _“No, un ratito más”_ she begged, still not opening her eyes, and I sighed.

“I’m sorry, but we have to hurry. Come on.” 

I grasped Laura's wrists and practically dragged her out of the old bed, before quickly peeling the oversized tank top off her. She said something sleepily about how cold my hands were, and how tired she was, as I began to unfold her Transigen long-sleeved thermal shirt and gray pants. With all the worries about the visas, the car, and Logan, I’d accidentally left the rest of her clothes drying out in my parents' backyard. _She was going to hate me for this._

“ _Esa ropa fea no me gusta, no me pongas eso.”_ she whined groggily, shoving my hands roughly away when she realized I was about to put the _ugly_ shirt on her. If Laura was an easily irritable person by nature, a sleep-deprived Laura was even worse.

“I know you hate this outfit but it’s all you have left.” I tried to explain, closing my eyes for an instant, but she clutched her arms round her naked torso in response, pouting and shaking her head. "Come on" I said tiredly, guiding her arms into the sleeves. _"Coopera un poco"_

She grunted, rubbing her eyes, and then clutched at my shoulder to steady herself before stepping into the pants I was holding. 

“This is the last time you’ll have to wear these clothes, I promise” I muttered apologetically. 

_“¡Ay, todo me prometes!”_ Laura protested. 

My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. 

"Excuse me?" I finally hissed to the young mutant, and she looked at me, stunned. “Watch your tone, Laura. _Ya te estás pasando, niña._ Just because you’re sleepy doesn’t mean you can be rude.” I scolded her, buttoning her pants. I couldn't control Laura's anger, but I could teach her to express it appropriately. 

Scowling, she picked up her shoes and went to sit on the edge of the bed, knowing too well that she would be in trouble if she said another word. 

“Here, put your sweatshirt on so you don’t look like a Transigen child that much.” I said, tossing her a sweatshirt as I shrugged into my coat. “Your raincoat too or you'll get soaked. We’ll try to get you a nice outfit on the way, ok?”

“We?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion for a second as she put her shoes on.

“Yes, your father and I" I replied, fishing the car keys from my bag. "We’ll see if we can find him today. Let’s go”

+++++++++++

It was raining quite hard. The wet road reflected lights, creating a world of reality and a wavering mirror image in the water. I parked the car next to a big oak tree whose bark looked freshly carved. It wasn't a very clear view, the rain shadowed the whole cemetary, but at least I could see the people and cars that entered the gates. I had predicted that Laura was going to fall asleep while we were waiting, but instead, she was peering out the rear window, asking questions.

 _“¿Se va a tardar mucho?”_ she asked for the fifth time. 

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t even know if he’s coming at all.” I replied absently through a shrug, looking out the window. Not too far from where we were parked, a coffin was being carefully removed from a hearse and placed on planks above a grave while some mourners were solemnly gathering around it.

“ _¿Cómo va a venir vestido, crees que traiga su traje?”_ Laura inquiried innocently.

“No” I chuckled “I don’t know what he’ll be wearing but I’m pretty sure it won’t be the yellow leotard you’ve seen in the comic books. Maybe he never even had one.”

“Oh, ok” Laura muttered, a bit disappointed. She kept staring out the rear window in silence, probably frowning, before speaking again. “ _¿Y cómo voy a saber que es él cuando lo vea?”_ she asked quizzically.

“Don’t worry.” I said, suppressing a sigh. “I know how to recognize him. I’ve seen pictures of him...photographs, not illustrations”. I clarified. At this, Laura turned in her seat and opened her mouth, obviously offended.

 _“¡Y por qué no me las enseñaste, yo soy su hija!”_ she exclaimed dramatically, pointing at herself, and I sucked on my bottom lip in an effort to stop myself breaking into a broad smile.

“I know that you are _his_ daughter, but I didn't show them to you because I’m not even sure if it’s really him" I tried to clarify. "Don’t get mad at me, baby.”

 _“¿Y entonces cómo vas a saber si es él?”_ she insisted. 

_“¡Ay, qué niña! Ya te dije que--"_ I began, but before I could say anything else, a Chrysler limousine entered the gates. Laura was saying something but I was not listening to her. I was giving all my attention to the black, sleek vehicle that was cruising to a halt next to the coffin and the mourners. The driver, a tall, sturdy man wearing a black coat stepped out of the car and opened the rear door for the elegant lady sitting inside. I half lifted myself out of my seat, straining to see. _God_ , he had the same demeanor as Laura, the same hostile-ish appereance; even his eyebrows were pulled together into a familiar, pronounced frown -- _her signature scowl_. I was looking at Wolverine. I shook my head, I opened my mouth without making a sound. He was fifty feet away, unmistakable. It was him. It had to be him. Those geeks had been right all along.

The lady --his client-- went to join the mourners, umbrella held high. I watched him. He limped round the back of his limousine and then towards our car, before grabbing for the support of the oak tree --he looked old and terribly tired-- then he pulled out of his coat an almost empty bottle of whisky and took a big gulp, turning his head every now and then towards his client. I blinked, bewildered, trying to remember how I had seen my beautiful, energetic Laura in this depressing, weak, alcoholic man. For a moment I wanted to laugh. Then something very cold ran over my flesh. 

_“¿Qué tanto miras? ¿Quién es ese señor?"_ Laura startled me out of my thoughts. I caught her eyes in the rearview mirror, she was eyeing me suspiciously.

“Nothing. I’m not looking at anything.” I said absently, turning my eyes back to Logan. He was already walking away, his bulky silhouette nothing more than mist in the increasing rain. It was now or never. “Stay here!” I commanded Laura as I climbed out of the car.

“Wolverine!” I called after him. On hearing his alias, he turned to face me. _Bingo._ “I knew it was you.” I muttered confidently as large, stinging drops pounded against my face. He stared at me for a split second, his eyes tense and angry.

“Fuck” he finally growled, turning around. Oh, no, maybe he was thinking I was one of those stalkers from the fan website.

“Please!” I shouted, walking after him, stepping in and out of the wet mud as the awful truth began to dawn on me. Laura's life depended on talking this rude, bitter man into helping us. “I’m in trouble! You’re the only one that could help! _¡Necesito un héroe!”_ How _ironic was that?_ I was calling him _a hero._ Exactly the same word I had employed to describe him to Laura the night I'd given her the comic books. _The night she'd found out that she had a father._

“Get the fuck away from me!” he hissed, his expression growing more irritated as he kept limping across the cemetery towards his limo.

 _Oh, he had a temper too…_ and I’d been dealing with his _mini-me_ long enough so as not to be fazed by it.

 _“¡Qué demonios te pasó! ¡De qué te escondes!”_ I shouted frantically, desperately. His stubborn attitude was so familiar to me that I even forgot that, unlike his daughter, he couldn’t understand me. My heart was clutching with anger. I felt frustrated, vulnerable. After all we'd been through... the long journey, all the dangers we’d managed to dodge, all the stress, all the pain and trauma Laura had endured in order to get here. And now this. What was he hiding from? What had happened to him? This wasn't the hero from the comic books. This wasn't the amazing man his fans looked up to. This wasn't the father Laura deserved.

“Please! Logan!” I begged one last time as he opened the trunk of his limo and took out an umbrella. It was useless, he wasn't listening. 

_"No me oye"_ I muttered angrily as I ran back to my car, the cold rain going straight through my coat. I'd had enough of it. I worked my way into the car and settled on the vinyl seat, cursing like a sailor as the FIAT tore off down the narrow cemetery road. I drove past Logan as he was sliding into the driver's seat, almost running him over. _Why not?_ _He had a healing factor._

“ _Cabrón, pero no se va a librar de mí el pendejo…¿Qué se está creyendo? ... maldito alcoholico, imbécil...mira que mandarnos así a la chingada después de lo que pasamos...”_ I was saying through gritted teeth, clutching the steering wheel with both hands, until I remembered the little girl in the back seat waiting for an explanation. I took a deep breath, focusing all my energy on coming back to myself, before clearing my throat quietly.

“Sorry, I...I didn’t mean to swear in front of you." I muttered in a tight voice, staring straight ahead. "Forget I said all that, ok?” 

_“Te dijo,_ _‘Get the fuck away from me’”_ Laura said in a quiet, resentful voice, staring down at her hands.

_She’d heard everything…shit shit shit...puta madre._

“Hey! Don’t repeat that!!" I snapped at her, feeling my anger spike. "I know what he said, I was there! And since you're finally eager to speak English, you're going to speak it more often from now on or I won't listen to you!" 

I knew that Laura didn’t deserve to be treated like this. I knew that I was taking it out on her, but I couldn’t help it. I was extremely furious.

Laura fell silent and turned her dazed eyes to the world outside the window, a confused, sad look blooming on her features. I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. I needed to calm down. I couldn't lose control right now, Laura needed me. She needed me more than ever.

 _“Perdón, mi amor, no es tu culpa_. _No era mi intención gritarte así, mi niña_. Of course I'll listen to you, I always will." I said apologetically as I tried to calm myself. “I'm really sorry, it’s just that--”

“--that you made a mistake” Laura cut me off, finishing my sentence. She was staring dejectedly at the sheeting rain. _“Ese no era Wolverine..._ that wasn't my dad” she said quietly.

 _Perfect, that's the icing on the cake,_ I thought sardonically as I let out a sigh and brought a hand up to my head. I wanted to explain the situation to Laura, but this was not the proper place to do it. So I just ignored her comment and kept my eyes on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Far Away", Nickelback.


	11. The Chase

  
****"To where will you go child?**   
**Tell me where will you run, to where will you run?"**

The encounter was a complete failure. I wasn't expecting that reaction at all. _What the hell was wrong with him?_ We were going to need another plan to get Logan to help us. Laura was sitting in silence, throwing glances at my blazing eyes as we drove past buildings and shops. Eventually, guilt began to settle in the pit of my stomach and I remembered that I'd dragged the eleven-year-old out of bed and forced her to jump into the car without even giving her a glass of water. This whole situation was becoming unbearable. I was doing my best, but Laura needed her own bed, her own toys and books, real food, _a place to call home_. 

"Are you hungry, _nena_?" I asked when things settled, sounding a lot more composed. But Laura didn't reply. She didn't even look at me. _Oh, oh._

"Well, I am. I think I'll have a burguer." I said, heading for the local _Whataburger_ I'd seen on our way to the cemetery, not the healthiest option, but I wasn’t in the mood for driving around the city. _"Gringos_ are so good at making them, would you like to try one?" 

I waited, but she didn't speak. I knew I could not tell her, but her silence was hurting me. Laura's face was oddly expressionless, like every time Donald Pierce walked into a room. She was treating me like a stranger.

I would have loved for Laura to have her meal inside the restaurant like any other child, but the less she was seen outside, the better, so we used the drive thru and then went back to the motel. 

+++++++++

Laura was sitting on the bed across from me, gazing upon the untouched burguer and fries that sat in front of her.

“You haven’t said a word since we left the cemetery” I said, rubbing my wet hair with a towel. “ _¿No quieres hablar conmigo?”_ I asked, and she shook her head stiffly. _God, she was devastated..._

The tension in the air was increasing and I didn't know what to say to put her out of her misery. “It's ok. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to talk" I said through a shrug. "It’s never been important, really, I love you all the same. But maybe--”

 _“¡Tú me dijiste que me ibas a llevar con mi papá y me engañaste!”_ Laura suddenly snapped, glaring hard and cold at me, wrinkling her nose. I was momentarily bewildered --just a couple of hours ago I’d received the exact same stare from _someone else_. I had seen pictures of Laura’s mother, and this child was the spitting image of her. However, I’d never really given much thought to Laura’s facial expressions and demeanor, I'd just assumed she got them from her mother too. I was wrong. I was terribly wrong. Laura was the girl version of her father. 

“I didn’t trick you, _nena_." I said, trying to calm her, even though I knew I was wasting my breath. The girl was just sitting there, breathing heavily, her watery eyes coming in contact with mine. "You heard me call him--"

 _"¡No!"_ Laura shouted, cutting me off mid sentence, before her frown became sharper.

I let out a sigh and put the towel away, before leaning towards her. “That man, Laura…was your dad.” I whispered vehemently. “He is Logan. He is your father.” At this, her jaw tightened and something sparkled in her eyes: a kind of fury I’d never seen before. 

"He's NOT!” Laura retaliated hotly. I reached out to put a hand on hers, but she cringed away. "Don't touch me!" she hissed, unaware that she was switching from one language to another.

"Laura..." I mumbled. Disappointment was making her sulky. She hadn’t unsheathed her claws and destroyed anything I should pay for yet, but I was expecting it at any moment. "Come her--" I began, but she abruptly stood up. Her arms were tight against her side, her fists clenched. 

_"No es mi papá"_ she growled, quivering with anger.

That was it, she was crossing _the line_. The little girl was fading away and _something else_ was taking over. I had to stop her.

“ _A ver,_ _¿por qué no, pues?_ Why isn’t he your dad?" I asked in an exasperated voice, crossing my arms, showing her that I was not feeling threatened. "Tell me... help me understand...” I insisted, so that she could listen to her own nonsense.

It worked. Something flickered in her eyes and the fury in her was lost, to be replaced by an emptiness she found confusing. I mentally chuckled. Laura was cornered.

“Because…” she mumbled, unable to summon words, relaxing her arms. “… _dice groserías como Pierce._ ” Laura frowned.

 _Oh, that…_ The only person she’d ever heard use the word ‘fuck’ twice in a conversation was Donald Pierce, and now she was labeling Logan.

“Everybody says bad words sometimes, not only Pierce. I say them too when I’m mad.” I replied nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders. 

_“Pero se ve que es muy enojón.”_ Laura grumbled, to which I snorted slightly.

“You are grumpy too, _mi amor_ ” … _very. That’s the whole point._

 _“Pero está viejo.”_ Laura said, obstinately holding on to our argument. 

“I never said he was young” I reminded her. “And anyway, that’s a mean thing to say. We don’t stop loving our parents just because they got old.”

There was indecision and confusion in her face. She didn’t know why she was saying these things. Laura was not the kind of girl who judged people by their exterior. 

“ _¡Pero te trató mal y no quiso ayudarnos! Es… ¡Es malo!”_ Her voice broke on the last word, and she quickly wiped off the single tear that fell down her face, half snarling. 

I watched with unease, feeling a pang of sadness. If it had come as a shock to me seeing Logan in that pathetic state, I could only imagine the heavy blow it must have been for Laura. Earning her trust wasn’t easy. She had given it to Logan unconditionally, and he'd lost it the moment he'd refused to help us. Her father didn't want to be a hero anymore, he didn't want to be _her_ hero.

“ _No, mi cielo._ Come here. _.._ ” I held out my arms to Laura and this time she closed the space between us and settled her head onto my shoulder, seeking comfort, breathing heavily through her frustration. “He’s not a bad man.” I said in a quiet voice, rubbing her back gently. “He’s a good man who’s probably been through a lot lately, just like us.” I explained, before adding, “He didn’t know who I was, and it was raining…and he was working. It was all my fault, that wasn’t the right time to ask for his help." 

_"Pero fue muy grosero contigo"_ she pointed out, mildly upset. Laura hated it when someone was rude to me or any of the other nurses. I would constantly lie to her to protect her from my pain, but Laura wasn't stupid, she always knew that we were also being humiliated and mistreated by Dr. Rice and his people.

"Yes... he was mean to me" I admitted "But maybe he was just having a bad day. Driving around the city and dealing with strangers all day long must be very stressing.” 

I didn't believe this at all, meeting Logan had only confirmed my theory --and fears-- that Laura was susceptible to develop mental health problems. But no child should hear anyone speak badly of their parents.

 _“¿Pero por qué es un driver y no como en el cómic?”_ she asked, pushing away and making eye contact with me.

“Because even heroes need to eat and pay the bills and, as you pointed out, he’s not young anymore. Your dad can’t be running around fighting the bad guys like he used to.” I muttered, squeezzing her hand gently.

“Mmm...ok” Laura mumbled through a frown, not very convinced, but slowly opening her mind to this unexpected version of her favorite superhero.

“Shall we give _daddy_ another chance?” I asked hopefully as I pulled her onto my lap and kissed her cheek.

“ _Sí, pero no le voy a decir así._ ” Laura hissed.

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You won’t call him _daddy?”_ I asked.

She shook her head. “No” 

"Why not?" I inquired, tilting my head in confusion. 

_"_ _Porque NO"_ Laura replied bluntly, looking the other way.

I shook my head silently. Logan would have to work very hard in order to win her back. Karma was coming for him in the form of his own kid, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

“Ok” I breathed. “But remember that you’re giving him another chance, _sí_?”

“Mmm... _"_ she hesitated and then her small shoulders lifted on a shrug.

"Laura..." I sighed tiredly, and at this, Laura looked up at me and rolled her eyes.

 _"Okaaaay!"_ she exclaimed exasperatedly, slipping off my lap.

I watched her as she plopped down on the bed and took a big bite of her cold burger. Raising this girl was getting more and more complex and challenging by the day. But it was all worth it. Being part of her life was worth every single second.

I rose to my feet and picked up Laura's raincoat from the floor, before draping it over a chair. The room was a total mess. Maybe she was right, maybe we shouldn’t tell Logan that he had a kid --not yet. He seemed to have many troubles already and, whereas I felt bad for adding yet another one to his life, Laura’s safety came first. As a matter of fact, I doubted he’d want to recognize Laura as his child, let alone keep her. If getting her to Eden was important before, now I was sure it was her only chance for a better future. _I could not fail her. Logan was going to help us whether he liked it or not._

While Laura was eating her burger, I checked some of the documents Tom had put in her traveling bag. He’d packed some of the children’s files, including Rictor’s and Bobby’s, along with a couple of old newspaper articles on how the quickly decline in mutant birth rates had baffled scientists across the globe. I was pretty sure he was trying to tell me that Transigen was behind all this, or maybe he just thought they would come in handy during my first meeting with Logan. 

_He clearly didn't know the man._

+++++++++++++++++++++++

The rain had long ceased, but the clouds were still dense and opaque. We spent the rest of the day watching TV, trying to forget about the incident. I felt that what had taken place had happened too soon; we had been unprepared. I wracked my brain for a way to convince Logan to take us to North Dakota as I slowly folded our clothes. Somehow, it was amusingly simple: I had to do no more than tell him that Laura was his and show him the videos. But after having a glimpse of the kind of life he was leading, I wasn't so sure if he was going to react well, if he was going to understand. Wolverine had proved to be as challenging and stubborn as his daughter. I was exhausted. I couldn’t deal with both of them at the same time.

I swept imaginary sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and sat on the side of the bed, before gently brushing Laura's hair away from her sleeping eyes. I gazed down on the girl and certain words --"mutant," "daughter," "experiment"-- seemed to swell with fresh meaning. I was starting to understand why the girl was the way she was. I realized how much she needed me. I was all she had, and she was all I had.

I bent to kiss Laura's forehead tenderly, closing my eyes for a moment, and then I took her rubber ball from her grasp. Before falling asleep, she'd asked me if she could go out again to play, and I had to say no. The motel owner was a pain in the ass. She didn’t want Laura to throw her ball outside because _'the noise was annoying and she might break something'_. Laura was just a child, what was the woman expecting? I couldn’t lock the girl up in a small room the whole day… _not again._ I nearly lost my temper when I heard the racist bitch yelling at Laura earlier. She was lucky it didn’t cross her mind to touch the girl or snatch the ball from her, otherwise, she wouldn’t have a head on her shoulders right now. That's why I didn’t take Laura to crowded places: unable to speak around strangers, the mutant resorted to physical violence when she felt threatened or wanted something. It was a behavior that Transigen had encouraged on a daily basis, a bad habit Laura wouldn’t easily get rid of.

I couldn't help but groan a little as I stood, fatigue had been biting at my heels for a while. I put the rubber ball on the nightstand and frowned as I noted the almost empty bag of food inside the suitcase. We were running out of supplies and Laura was constantly asking for water, and chips, and cereal, and milk, and anything edible. I sighed, taking inventory. A trip to the supermarket was inevitable. 

+++++++++++++++++

9am.

The prospect of a solitary drive pleased me, even if I was praying that Laura wouldn't come up with one of her brilliant ideas while I was gone. I was going to give her Logan’s number so that she could text him in case something happened to me, but then I changed my mind. Leaving Laura feeling scared about the possibility of never seeing me again was definitely not a good idea, so I just asked her to be a good girl and stay indoors until I came back.

I went round to the driver's side, wearing a recently cleaned blouse and skirt. I slid into the seat, the car keys were in my hand, my handbag was lying open on the passenger seat, the key to our room was snug in my cardigan pocket. What had seemed difficult and paralyzing about Logan's reaction the night before now seemed merely silly, something I should snap out of. 

I started the car and drove straight to the supermarket I'd seen near the border. The parking lot was empty when I arrived. Apparently, I was the only one that did the grocery shopping this early in the morning. I was unbuckling my seat belt when, suddenly, I experienced a creeping sensation of being watched. I looked around, but everything seemed normal. _Cálmate, Gabriela._ I muttered to myself before opening the door warily. Not having Laura with me made me feel a bit vulnerable, whether I liked it or not, that little girl was a weapon, and the best body guard anyone could wish for.

I was scolding myself for thinking such things, when something happened --I did not quite see what-- but the deafening silence that filled the parking lot was suddenly broken by the loud sound of a gun being fired. A searing pain and the shock of what had just happened sent my body's adrenaline level skyrocketing. I looked down at my throbbing right arm and saw a bloody wound of thorn flesh. The terrifying sight made me feel nauseous. Bewildered, I turned my head to the left and what I saw next chilled my blood. Although he was still some distance away, Donald Pierce was slowly moving toward my car. He was smirking and holding up a gun in his robotic hand.

He must have been thinking I was going to scream or curl up in the car seat, because he dropped his hands and stood confidently in the middle of the parking lot as his gaze washed silently over the small car. _He didn’t know me at all…_

I slammed the door shut and started the engine. The tires squealed as I spun around to face south, accelerating too quickly, driving over to the exit. It was then that I felt the warm wetness begin to spread through my arm with alarming speed, soaking my blouse. I was too stunned to feel much pain yet. I looked briefly at Pierce through the rearview mirror, he was running towards a big, black Hummer van across the lot. The whole experience had lasted no more than ten seconds.

 _I can lose him…I can lose him… How did he find me? What happened?_ A thousand questions flooded my mind as I accelerated my car forward. I made a sharp right-hand turn out onto the main boulevard, my speed was somewhere between seventy and seventy-five, which dropped only a little as I came up behind a large white truck. I couldn’t see Pierece behind me, but I feared he was tracking me. Thankfully, I was in a highly populated area where cops were surely trying to find drivers who weren’t following the speed limit. He wouldn’t be so stupid as to openly chase me in the middle of El Paso.

For the moment, I felt totally unconcerned about where I was going. Messages sprang from me to Laura, indistinct pulses of alarm and love. I was absolutely positive that Pierce thought he would have me begging on my knees right there; he was expecting me to get intimidated and surrender, just like in the past.

I went in the opposite direction of the motel and wandered through empty, wetside roads, carefully keeping a watchful eye on the rearview mirror for any signs that I was being followed. Driving the car soon proved to be no easy task. The pain began to kick in and it was getting sharper and sharper, but I couldn’t guide him to Laura. When my arm got numb and it was difficult to keep my hands on the steering wheel, I parked the car in an alley and waited. I sat motionless, still holding the steering wheel, watching myself through the eyes of any passerby. I looked down at my arm. The wound was deep, and the bullet was still buried in the flesh. I teared a strip from the bottom of my blouse and slowly began to tighten it around my upper arm in order to slow down the flow of blood. My actions seemed to cause the pain to worsen, but I soon observed that the bleeding appeared to stop.

Before the relief, before the shock, came an intense hope that Laura would remember my words about killing anyone who tried to hurt her. With trembling fingers, I started the engine and sped back toward the motel. Laura was on her own and I had to go back to her. I distracted myself from the pain by thinking about what had happened. Pierce was a good shot, why didn't he kill me right then? What was he playing at? The only explanation was that he must have thought that Laura was in the back seat. The coward was keeping his distance from her. I sighed. What worried me the most was that he wasn’t alone, I had clearly seen more men inside the Hummer.

If Donald Pierce had never been killed by any of the children back in Transigen, it’s because he was an authority figure. It was always him at the front, intimidating them, bullying them, shouting the tortures that awaited the kids if they didn’t do as he said. His leather-clad figure walking through the door was often the prelude to a traumatic experience inside a training room or a lab. Most of the children had developed an irrational fear towards him.

That’s what he was trying to do. He wasn’t trying to kill me, he wanted to hurt me in front of her. He was going to use Laura’s love for me so that he could take her. _'If you don't get into the fucking Hummer, I'll kill her, mutie'_

I soon arrived at the motel, which was standing in one piece. I put my hands over my face and cried briefly and messily, then I blew my nose and moved to open the door. I attempted to pull myself up and out of the car seat, but an intense wave of searing pain shot up from my shoulder. Walking proved to be as hard as driving, every step was increasing the pain in my arm. The annoying owner was sitting in her office, watching a bad sitcom. None of the doors had been forced, and the other guests were as quiet as always. Relief coursed through me as I pushed the door open and saw Laura sitting on the floor, playing with her toys and watching TV. She looked up at me and smiled hugely, pleased to see me after the short separation, until her eyes fixed on my right arm.

“ _¡Qué te pasó!”_ Laura cried, jumping to her feet, dropping the toy horse as she ran up to me. “ _¡Qué tienes!”_ Her voice was tight, fear was rising inside of her. Her big brown eyes were piercing into mine with a concern that was heart wrenching. 

“ _Está bien, está bien. No te espantes, cielo_ ” I soothed her, crossing the room. "It's ok" I muttered, clutching my arm as I struggled to sit on the edge of the bed.

No, it was not ok. I had to tell her the truth. I had to warn her.

“Listen, Laura" I began, trying to ignore the pain. "I…I ran into Donald Pierce. He did this to me…” On hearing Pierce's name, Laura went deathly pale and it was obvious that her pulse rate had speeded up. I waited for her to speak, but she'd lost her voice. “I’m very scared that he found us, baby." I admitted. "But panicking won’t help us in the least. I’m going to text Logan and tell him to come get us, ok?”

I knew that Laura’s emotional development had been stunted. I knew that she didn’t understand many things about the world. I knew that my heart would always see her as the small toddler with chubby cheeks that struggled to leave the diapers, but right now I needed her to be the eleven-year-old she was supposed to be. I needed to encourage her to grow into that person or she would never be truly safe. 

Being so straightforward seemed to help her swallow the bad news because she nodded meekly and raced into the bathroom. She was back within seconds with the medical case.

 _“No te preocupes”_ she said. Her nervousness was evident in her voice as she put it next to me. Then she placed a blanket gently over my legs and knelt down beside me while I tended to the wound. I couldn’t dig the bullet out, but I could disinfect the damaged flesh and take some pain killers. "I will protect you" Laura suddenly added under her breath as something dark flashed across her face.

+++++++++++

Now realizing just how vulnerable we really were, I fumbled with my handbag's clasp and pulled out my phone. Contacting Logan directly was out of the question; if he found out it was me texting he wouldn’t come, so I passed myself off as a client --a client that was willing to pay all the money in the world to save his little girl’s life. Yes, I’d made up my mind to give him all the cash we had left if it came to that.

“ _¿Ya viene?”_ Laura asked, scrutinizing the bandages around my arm, legs curled beneath her. She didn't want to leave my side. 

“ _No, hermosa. No está disponible ahorita_. He must be very busy, but I’ll try again later” I assured her, putting the phone down. My right arm had once again started to bleed profusely, despite the fact that I'd just changed the bandages.

 _“¿Te duele?_ Does it hurt?” Laura asked twice, staring at the wound. This wasn't right, I was the grown up and she was the child. I should be looking after her and not the other way around.

“ _Un poquito, bebé. No mucho_.” I lied, my voice weak. Laura didn't look convinced. “Why don’t you take a bath, _mi niña_?" I quickly added, eager to change the subject. "Let me see that you can do it by yourself 'cause I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you for a few days” I said, nodding at my wounded arm, trying to hide the pain. "And I doubt you’ll want your father’s help.” 

At this, Laura frowned, moving to stand. “ _No, no quiero_... and he wouldn’t want to help me anyway.” she added a bit too stiffly as she took a bottle of shampoo out of the suitcase and crossed the room. Laura was still confused; she had needs and desires that she wanted her dad to fill, and was quickly begining to understand that Logan wouldn't meet some of those needs because he was a broken man. The girl was developing resentment towards her father and that was not right. I needed to have a serious talk with her.

As soon as Laura was in the bathroom, I squeezed my eyes, a burst of pain exploding in my arm. It was kind of liberating to be away from Laura's stare, not to have to smile and pretend that I was fine. I reached for a new bandage and began to remove the blood-stained one, when I heard Laura turning the taps, then a loud thud, then a strange noise. I let out a sigh and moved to stand, grabbing my bad arm with my left hand.

"Laura?" I yelled, knocking on the door. "Do you need help?" 

"I'm ok!" she shouted. _"¡Yo puedo sola!"_

“Right. Leave your clothes where they won’t get wet because I couldn’t get you new ones!” 

“Ok!”

“Make sure the water isn’t too hot!” 

“ _¡No te apures!_ I can heal!” 

“I don’t care!”

“Ok!”

“Don’t forget to wash your hair!”

_“¿Me puedo lavar las claws también?”_

“No, because you’re going to make a mess! I mean it!”

“Ok, I won’t wash them!

“Don’t even bring them out! _¡Obedece!"_

“Okaaaay!”

I knew that if I opened the door now, I would find Laura sitting in the tub with a bone-dry head, no soap in sight, and doing nothing at all. However, I didn't have the energy to roll up my sleeves and attempt to clean this wild, squirmy little girl. So I turned around, leaving Laura to her own devices, and checked Logan’s status again. His car wasn't avaliable yet. Silently cursing the stubborn man once more, I sat on the bed and leaned my head against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. Why was he so bitter? Why was he ill? Why was he hiding? I kept asking myself, my mind trying to figure out why anyone like him could possibly choose to lead that kind of life. After half an hour, the pain killers finally began to kick in. I was feeling much better, although the bleeding hadn’t stopped altogether. I rested my head on the pillow, hoping Laura had not inherited her father's curses, and closed my eyes for a minute. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"By Your Side", Tenth Avenue North.


	12. Broken

****"He has done this all before**   
**But you're lying, lying**   
**To yourself, that he'll find help**   
**That he will change to someone else..."**

How long I was out, I didn't know. I was on the bed without understanding how I got here, unable to focus my mind clearly. At first I didn't understand where the blinding light was coming from or why the room was spinning. I slowly moved to sit up, bravely forcing my mind to overcome my body's pain. Then reality hit me. It was dark outside... and Laura was not in the room.

I cleared my throat and called out absurdly into the silence, _"¿Laura?”_ And then louder, _"¡LAURA!"_.

I leapt out of the uncomfortable bed, begining to panic, before rushing into the bathroom, grasping the door frame for support. The tub was filled with soapy water, but Laura's clothes were not on the floor. I turned back to the room, her raincoat and shoes were gone too. The adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain much faster, and for a moment I forgot about my arm. Her backpack was sitting on the bed, she'd never leave without her toys and comic books.

I heard myself mutter the word _stolen,_ and then I sprang for the door, tearing it open.

Just then, I let out an audible breath of relief. Laura was in the parking lot, bouncing her rubber ball off a wall, her raincoat slipping off her shoulders. 

_"¡Laura!_ " My voice sounded strange, a bit frantic. 

_“Te quedaste dormida_ ” she said, walking up to me, ball in hand. _“Me vine a jugar afuera para no molestarte_ ”

I looked at her concerned, innocent expression and my anxiety subsided enough to make it possible for me to bend and kiss her forehead. She’d come to play outside because she didn’t want to disturb me. This caring, loving child, was the version of Laura hardly anyone ever saw. If Logan decided to let her in, he'd get a wonderful daughter who would always be by his side, looking after him. 

“Thanks, _preciosa_." I smiled fondly at her, although I knew I should have been angry with her for going out without my permission. I could never be as firm as I told myself I ought to be. I was soft with Laura most of the time, but only because I loved her so much. "Keep playing with your ball, but remember, be careful with the windows. I’ll be inside if you need me.”

“ _Sí_ ” she muttered as I went back into the room.

I glanced down at the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around my arm. Knowing that the skin could get infected, I carefully unwinded the bandage, exposing a wound that looked ten times worse than a few hours ago. I glanced at the clock and gave a grimace. It was past eight-thirty, which meant that I had slept for more than five hours. _'We should be leaving Texas by now, Gabriela'_ I mentally scolded myself as I hurriedly wrapped a clean bandage around my arm. I was feeling extremely weak and I had a fever, but _‘the show must go on’_ they say. Grasping the small phone in my blood-covered hands, I opened the taxi app and… _finally_ , Logan’s car was available. I didn’t waste any more time and texted him, requiring his services. According to this thing, he would be here in less than 15 minutes.

I swept a light sheen of cold sweat from my face and went outside again to warn Laura of her father's arrival. I didn't want Logan to take her by surprise.

 _"Laura, mi vida_ " I muttered, careful to hide how I was really feeling. 

" _¿Mande?_ " she said, tossing the ball into the air and catching it.

"Your father is arriving in less than 15 minutes. Do you want to come inside?" I asked warily.

Laura hesitated. She seemed to be having an internal war in her mind.

"You don't have to see him if you don't want to" I added after a long silence, studying her expression with curious eyes.

 _"Aquí me quedo_ " she finally mumbled, avoiding eye contact, pretending to be concentrated on tossing the ball. My lips curved up at the corners. Laura was ashamed of her curiosity about Logan. She hadn’t decided yet if she liked him or not.

"Are you sure?" I asked, raising a brow in half-suspicion, half-surprise.

Laura gave a nod and walked away before I could ask any more questions. She wanted to get a closer look at her _daddy,_ but wasn’t going to admit it. 

++++++++++++

The waiting was agonizing. I was pacing up and down the room, feeling nervous and short of breath. The world outside this motel room, outside my clothes even, seemed oddly dangerous, bad, unforgiving. I just wanted this to be no more than a passing episode. I wanted it ended now. I wanted Laura to be free.

I stopped and leaned against the wall. I was doing all that I could. I had to accept that, and put the things that were outside of my control in the hands of God. _God..._ I never told Laura about Him. How could I? There was no God in Transigen. I took a deep breath and tilted my head back. Logan could not intimidate me. I was weak, true, but I was also several steps ahead, for I loved his child, I knew things he could not. She was my responsibility, that was beyond question now, and this was my time to be decisive. 

A set of bright lights suddenly appeared in the window, breaking into my reverie, then I heard the sound of car tires rolling on gravel. I rushed over to the window. There he was, tall and sturdy, standing in front of his limousine. _'Here I go again'_ I mumbled to myself as I opened the door and stepped out.

“Mr. Logan!” I said. As soon as he recognized me, he frowned, and his chest lifted on a loud, tired sigh. Then he muttered something I couldn’t hear. “Please, we need a ride.” I begged.

“Not available, call a cab” he whispered harshly through a deep frown as he turned around and began to walk away. This time I wasn’t going to let him. I wasn’t going to take _no_ for an answer.

“My name is Gabriela López--” I began, but he rudely cut me off.

“I don’t wanna know your name, _lady._ ” he hissed, talking over me. However, I continued on.

“There are men after us, we need to get out of here, go north, cross to Canada.” I yelled after him, chasing him, as he limped towards his limo.

Laura was pretending to play with her ball, but I knew she was paying attention to everything we were saying. The girl was keeping her distance from Logan, watching him so very carefully through raised eyebrows. I didn’t need to wait any longer to know that she wasn’t going to speak to him. Just like I’d predicted.

“Anyone can do that job” Logan snarled, pausing midstep, turning to look at me for a second, before moving to open the driver's door. 

“I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars!” I shouted. The words came out fast, like a reflex.

It seemed to work. The sturdy man spun round to face me squarely. His movements were slow and controlled, as if to let go would be releasing a force he had no control over.

“How did you find me, uh!" Logan growled, his eyes blazing. "Cause you’re fucking up my life, lady! The people after you, they’re on my ass now!” he added bitterly.

His words took me aback. Transigen had figured out I would go looking for him. _How? Was I really so obvious?_ I looked at Laura from the corner of my eye. She wasn't playing with the ball anymore. She was just standing there, quite literally struck dumb by her friendly, likeable father, her eyes flitting from Logan to me. Only yesterday I'd ask her to give him another chance, and now he was once again yelling at me, swearing, refusing to listen.

“Sightings were posted” I explained, before turning my anguished eyes to Laura. She didn't need to hear this conversation. _“¡Laura!_ Go inside!” I sent her off, but the stubborn girl only took a few steps back. I moved to take her inside myself when Logan spoke again.

“What sightings?” he demanded, mildly curious.

“People said someone who looked like The Wolverine was in El Paso driving” I said, turning back to him, before adding shyly. “Said he looked old.”

 _'I wish they would have talked about his manners and temper too'_ I was thinking to myself, when the sound of glass shattering interrupted our conversation. Instinctively, our heads turned towards the sound. Laura was looking at me guiltily --she'd broken a window with her rubber ball. I internally cursed. Laura was not a clumsy girl, her eye-hand coordination was excellent, more than excellent. She’d done it on purpose. She couldn’t scream at Logan, but she could smash a window instead. The young mutant always found a way to get her point across.

It took less than a second for the annoying owner to come out of her office and begin to yell at Laura. 

“Hey!” she shouted, threatening the girl with a rolled-up newspaper, as she walked towards her. Anger rippled through me. _What the fuck was she planning to do with it? Whack my child like a dog?_ “I told you to stop it with that ball!” The owner kept screaming, striding forward, as Laura held her ground. It was then that I realized I wasn't fearing for Laura's integrity anymore. I was fearing for the owner's.

“No! Please!” I panicked, moving to put myself between the woman and the girl, forgetting about my wounded arm.

“I told you, bad girl!” The owner persisted, overreacting, as I struggled to push her away from the horrid death that awaited her if she touched the lethal kid standing in front of her. “ _Mamacita's_ gonna have to pay for that!”

That did it. I couldn’t stop her any longer, she was too big and I was too weak. I groaned in pain as my body crashed down onto the hard pavement. Laura quickly closed the space between us and knelt down by my side, holding my hand. If Logan and the woman had not been around, she would have surely cried my name. To my great surprise, Logan came to my aid too, mirroring his daughter’s actions. _I knew he was still a good man._

“They’re gonna have to pay for damages” The woman complained as if nothing had happened, while I lay motionless on the cold floor.

 _“Estoy bien, no pasa nada_ ” I half mumbled to Laura, trying to wave away her concern with my hand, struggling to overcome an overwhelming urge to lapse into unconsciousness.

“And she has cash, I’ve seen it” The woman told Logan, still not affected at all by the situation.

“You get your fat ass back in your office, you’ll get your money.” Logan muttered angrily at her, and I was glad to discover that he was rude to everyone else too.

Through the nausea and dizzines I saw the owner walk back to her office. Logan pushed me upwards as I clung to him, then he half dragged me back to the room, carrying most of my weight. “Don’t let her call anyone” I begged, out of breath. “Please, they will find us, they will kill us”

Once inside, he helped me sit on the edge of the bed. The pain had come back with force, blood was rolling down my arm with alarming speed, and the bandages were wet and itchy. I needed to check the wound. Logan noticed the small case full of medical supplies next to me and frowned. I finally had his attention, so it was time for me to do the talking.

“I’m a nurse…was, in Mexico City” I began as I wiped the blood from my arm with a sterile gauze. 

“How’d that happened?” he asked warily, eyeing the wound. I winced, clutching my bad arm, it was swollen and tender.

“This morning, near the border” I managed, gasping for breath.

Logan took a step back and quickly scanned the bed, then turned to the shabby desk, looking for something that might explain why I was being so insistent, instead of just asking. He spotted the Transigen files, comic books, and newspaper articles.

“I got away from them, now they know my car…” I added as he inspected the documents. I waited for him to say something about them, but instead, he turned to me as if something he saw had frightened him.

“Look, I gotta go…” Logan simply muttered, looking down at me, before limping towards the door. I'd been right when I'd told Laura that her dad didn’t do superhero stuff anymore. He couldn't even look at his own illustrated face.

“No! Wait, wait, wait a second…” I blurted out, trying to stop him, as I pulled out the cash I’d hidden in the broken nightstand. “Here, here. Please, wait, look!” I said frantically as he reluctantly turned around. “Take this” I insisted, holding out the yellow envelope, luring him back into the room. “It’s twenty thousand dollars!”

The ex-hero hesitated for a moment, before taking a few steps forward.

“Here! Take us to this address.” I muttered as he took the bloodstained envelope from my hands, looking at the numbers written on it.

“You can have thirty thousand more when we get there." I said quickly, and he looked at me suspiciously through a frown, just like Laura when she thought I was tricking her. "My friends, they will give it to you” I lied as he fumbled with the rubber band wrapped around the envelope, before checking its contents. “They will be waiting; they will give you anything.” I assured him. 

Logan pondered my words for a brief moment, looking down at the money, and then lifted his head. 

“How’d you get this?” he finally inquired, and I quickly came up with a believable lie.

“My boyfriend...he wants to kill me…and take her” I mumbled, gesturing to Laura, who was currently standing outside the room, still keeping her distance from Logan. However, when her dad turned to look at her, she tentatively approached him, locking eyes with him. I thought he was going to speak to her, give her his attention if only for a moment, maybe even recognize himself in her. But none of that happened, his daughter meant nothing to him, she was just a random girl. 

“Is that your daughter?” he asked, quickly turning his eyes back to me, and at this, Laura stopped and stood by the door awkwardly. I knew now. I couldn't tell him the truth or he would bolt out the door. I stared at Laura, thinking about Logan's question. _Was she my daughter?_

"...yes" I finally breathed, emotion clogging my throat. I’d promised myself not to take her mother’s place, but the truth is that, in a way, Laura was mine, more mine than hers… _or his_. I was the one who did everything for her, who was always there for her, who knew her better than anyone else. I couldn’t bare to go days without setting eyes on the girl. She was special, I knew it from the very first time I saw her: a beautiful baby with big brown eyes standing in a cold crib, crying and reaching out for me. 

“I know you’re still good inside” My voice broke, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. “I know you want to help us” _Come on, Logan…please…_

“You don’t know anything about me!” he hissed, and I took a deep breath, attempting to tame the pain.

“Please, I promise there will be no problems if we leave now” I muttered. The fever was making me shake violently, I needed medical attention. If he didn’t help us right now I was going to…

“I can’t just leave to North Dakota!” Logan spat. 

“We have to be there Friday!” I pressed. My voice was rapid and nervous, and I seriously considered telling him the truth about Laura.

“Or what!” 

“Or we miss our chance to cross!” I cried, staring intently into his eyes.

That did it. His face went from anger to guilt in a second. 

“Please…” I begged. Wolverine hesitated and then turned his eyes to Laura once more. _That’s right, look at her, do it for her, save her…_ I mentally encouraged him. “…you have to, please…please” I insisted. I was ready to beg on my knees if he said _no_ again. Laura's gaze was swinging from me to Logan and back again. She was expressionlees, her lips glued together. The young mutant was not impressed by her idol anymore.

Logan stared at me, not sure what to say, but something in his expression had already told me the answer. It was easy to read him, he was so much like her.

“Fuck…alright” The old mutant growled. “But we can’t leave right now. I need to go... home, do something first…” he added, stumbling over his words, before clearing his throat and facing away. 

"Bring us with you. Please. We can help with whatever you need to do" I insisted. 

"I'll be back in a few hours" he said, ignoring my words. "Keep this locked" 

I looked at the puzzling man through narrowed eyes and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Logan." I muttered, fighting the urge to ask him again if we could come with him. "Just... hurry, please” I whispered, but he was already walking through the door, brushing past Laura as he murmured something like ' _liar'_. 

I heard a door being slammed shut and then an engine roaring to life. He was gone.

I closed my eyes for a few moments, before opening them again. The pain was growing stronger with each passing minute, becoming more and more unbearable. The amount of blood that I had lost from my gunshot wound had now become quite serious. The bandages were doing little to stop the bleeding and my thoughts were hazy. The frail sanity I had established was under threat. I was passive, mentally enfeebled. I was waiting for things to happen, I was sitting here hoping they were going to go my way. I couldn't make active calculations about the next move. I was inert, weak, half-asleep, not at all here. It was time to face the obvious possibility: if I didn’t get proper medical attention within the next few hours, I was going to die. In fact, that was the most likely outcome, even if Logan made it back in time. I’d already lost too much blood and I couldn’t call an ambulance... _and there was still a big challenge ahead_.

Was I up to the task? I involuntarily shook my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Broken", Isak Danielson.


	13. Goodbyes

****"Trouble is her only friend and he's back again**  
 **Makes** **her body older than it really is**  
 **And she says it's high time she went away**  
 **No one's got much to say in this town..."**

I started to rationalize the situation. It began to dawn on me that I'd made a mistake, several mistakes. 

Logan had agreed to help us because I was paying him, not because he felt like it. He was old, ill, depressed. It was obvious that he didn’t make much money either, and I was sure that he used the little cash he earned to buy alcohol, maybe even drugs. The man had lost the will to live. 

_What was I doing to Laura?_

She was a young girl, a lethal one, but a young girl all the same. She had physical and emotional needs, and Logan was everything but father material. I was stupidly handing a silent girl over to an emotionally unstable man. How can you have a relationship with a child that won't speak to you? The way most people see children with Laura's condition is that they're just very stubborn and they don’t want to cooperate, that they're controlling their behavior. Logan had no patience at all, he flied off the handle at the slightest provocation. How was he going to cope with her silence? _How was Laura going to cope?_ She didn’t even ask most people for a drink of water. What was she going to do when she needed to go to the bathroom? When she got hungry? When she needed a bath? When she felt scared or needed help? Laura was about to lose comfort, love, trust. Multiple and enormous losses she wouldn't be able to grieve because there was going to be no one to turn to. 

I was struggling to retain some composure, making efforts to burrow my way back through the folds of time and reverse my decision. I should have taken her to Eden myself. We should have never stopped in this goddamn city. I should have never tried to give Laura a father. _What had I done? I_ _didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know._

I squeezed my eyes, scolding myself. I was speechless with fear for the girl, horrified by my own helplessness to keep her from harm.

“Laura…” I muttered, opening my eyes and finding her face. She was still standing on the threshold, staring at me. The absolute trust in her eyes was breaking me up; she believed I was going to be by her side like I'd been before, and because I wasn't going to, because I was going to leave her with a man that was nothing but a stranger to her, I felt I had betrayed her. “ _Ven aquí, mi amor_. I need to talk with you.”

She slowly closed the space between us and stood in front of me. “Listen…ummm…” I trailed off. I tried to breathe normally. I needed to concentrate. “There’s something we haven’t talked about…and I need you to be a big girl and try to understand what I’m going to tell you, ok?”

Laura hesitated for a short second and then nodded once. 

“Listen, baby…this bullet wound is getting worse, and I can’t heal the way you do and..." The words caught up in my throat, my own voice sounded farther away. She was staring, uncomprehending, into my eyes. "...and I don't think I will be able to come with you and daddy...”

“NO!” she choked out the word, taking a step away from me.

“Listen… I won’t make it... but you will, _you will_ …” I whispered, peering deep into her eyes. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, Laura?” I muttered softly, and she shook her head slowly, always watching my face. “I'm not going to survive, _mi amor_ …”

"No" Tears welled in her eyes as her arms went round my neck. “No, no!” Laura blubbered, clinging to me as if her life depended on it.

This time I couldn’t be strong, we’d both been trying to be strong for far too long, so I wrapped my good arm around her small shape and broke down.

 _“Yo sé, mi amor, yo sé_ …" I sobbed, holding her tight. "I know it hurts, baby… I’m sorry this had to happen…I’m so sorry.”

“ _No me dejes sola_. _¿Qué voy a hacer si te vas?”_ she asked, crying uncontrollaly. The fear in her voice was tearing at me worse than the pain in my arm. 

“ _No, mi pequeña_ …I’m not leaving you alone." I whimpered as I uncoiled her small arms from around my neck and stroked her soft, tear-stained cheek. "I’m leaving you with Logan; he will protect you and take you to your friends.”

Her head wagged from side to side, full of anger and despair. _“No_ … _ese señor no me gusta_ …not him…” 

“He’s not a _señor_ , baby, he is your dad. And he will look after you.”

“No, I don’t like him…I don’t want him…I want you" she managed, as fresh tears rushed from her eyes. _"Quiero que te quedes conmigo para siempre..._ _No me dejes solita, por favor...No te vayas._ ” 

I looked at my trembling, moaning girl and tried to call a halt to my own emotion.

“Hey…” I murmured, placing my hands on her waist. My heart was shattering, but she needed to get a grasp of the situation. “Listen, _mi amor_ , I know that your father isn’t what you were expecting, I know that he’s not the perfect man from your comic books, but he’s the only father that you will ever have. Get to know him, give him a chance. Your dad is a good man, _he_ _is_. And he’s going to help you.”

 _“No, él no es bueno…”_ Laura was quick to reply . _“Te estás muriendo porque no quiso llevarnos ahora mismo. ¡Es su culpa, es su culpa!_ It's all his fault!" Laura shouted. Being angry with someone was a lot easier than feeling deep grief.

 _"No_ , _nena_ ; _no, mi amor_ … It’s not his fault that I’m dying… Even if he’d asked, I wouldn’t have let him take me to the hospital because it’s too risky... and he couldn’t take us with him right now because he had a very important thing to do first." I tried to explain, though I knew she was partly right. "But he’ll be back as soon as he can… Don’t blame him for this… please, don’t. It was Pierce who shot me, not him.”

“I hate them both... _los odio"_ Laura spat bitterly "He only wants money. I wish he had died instead of my mom..." The pain in her eyes was so stark that I gathered her in my arms, not caring about the wound.

“Hey, don't say that. Don't you ever say that again" I said through a frown, stroking her hair. "Ever"

Knowing that she would eventually cry herself out, I fell silent and allowed her to sob into my neck. I took several breaths as I pulled her closer into the protection of my body, trying to bring myself under control. I should count my blessings. If I hadn't found Logan, Donald Pierce would have found us sooner or later anyway, and Laura would have ended up alone in the world. At least she had her father's help now. 

"Listen, Laura…I need you to be strong." I finally said as I took hold of her shoulders and held her away. "You have to get to Eden, no matter what. You have to find your friends, you have to." I muttered, gazing intently into her eyes. "Transigen is after you, and they will stop at nothing. Do whatever you have to do, but beat them. Beat them, Laura, beat them. Don’t be afraid of them, don’t let them intimidate you, don’t even listen to their cruel words. You know that I don’t like it when you take lives, but kill if you have to, kill them all if necessary. Don’t let them touch you, don't let them win. Do it for me, can you do that for me?"

At this, Laura stopped moaning and shaking, then she stared at me for a few seconds and nodded meekly, wiping her tears away with the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“And come what may, stick with your father.” I continued, speaking the words slowly and precisely. “Don’t go on your own. Stay with him no matter what. It takes a lot more than a pair of adamantium claws to get through life, _amor_." Laura made a face, so I quickly added, "I know you don’t like him much right now, but he’s the only one who can take you to Eden. Don’t lose him out of sight, please…and…" My voice trailed away, I was short of breath again "...try to overcome your fear of speaking, _mi niña_. Learn to trust him and talk to him, you don't have to swallow your pain and fear all the time. Don't hold on to anger, Laura. It's ok to want him to be good to you. It's ok to want things.”

Laura stared, unseeingly, at my face for a long moment. Little as she was, she was beginning to understand that being brave was her only option now, and when she finally spoke, her voice was different, surer. _"Te lo prometo._ ” she simply said. The fragile child that used to hide under the bed was slowly fading.

I felt something tighten in my chest as I blinked to shake off an image of Laura, older than I would ever know her, standing in an alleway with her claws unsheathed; proud, powerful, beautiful, _and free_.

“ _Laura…”_ I barely whispered, suddenly realizing that this was my last day with her.

 _“¿Qué?”_ she replied quietly, her voice much more composed.

“I…” I mumbled, before clearing my throat, as I took her hands in mine and looked into the brown of her eyes. “It was never easy, baby girl. It never was... but I'm glad I had the privilege to love you. You were worth the fight" I whispered, emotion constricting my voice, as I struggled to keep myself from sinking. 

“Gabriela…” Laura began. Her tears were begining to dry up but her reddened eyes were still sad and empty.

“Grow up to be a good person, _amor mío_.” I cut her off, lifting my hand and pressing it to her cheek. “Live your life with dignity... Be whatever you want, but always, always, be kind." I muttered "If you ever have the chance, go back to the city where you were born and make peace with it. It's the place where you touched death, but also where you tamed a lot of beasts. I know it hurt you, but you don't have to carry that burden upon your shoulders your whole life." I paused a beat, trying to catch my breath, and she waited patiently until I could speak again. "I’m…I’m sorry I couldn’t take you to all those parks you wanted to see, but if you ever go back, ask them to erase all the painful memories, ask them to help you find peace. They will hear you.”

Laura nodded and offered me a tight, watery smile of reassurance. The roles had been reversed, and now she was hiding her pain to protect me. _“Sí”_

 _“Ven aquí, chiquita"_ I smiled, fastening my arms around her, holding her close, savouring our last hours together. _"Te amo muchísimo._ _Más que a mi vida…más que a nada en el mundo._ ” I said in tears, letting my thoughts wither to those words, as the cruel tissues of time and fate kept separating me from the loving child in my arms.

++++++

I stared at Laura, silent, contentedly secretive. She'd fallen across the bed fully dressed; her sleeping face, though peaceful, was transformed. The liveliness was gone. I picked up the green backpack from the floor and started to pack her belongings: the toy horse, her comic books, her ball, the picture of her friends, a map, the Transigen files, and the cash; hoping she'd sunk into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

Dreams were dangerous; was it only a bad dream when I told her not to change into more comfortable clothes in case she needed to run away in the middle of the night, when later she cried herself to sleep? Did I dream the chills that flashed up my spine when I replayed the conversation with Logan in my head, was it a nightmare when he climbed into his car and drove away without his daughter?

There was a strange silence in the room, a certain peace in the motel that let everyone know the day was over. I stared without breathing at the phone lying on the bed.

“If you are watching this, it means that I am dead." I said to the camera. "I’m not sure if any other children survived, we were separated. There is no more money, that was a lie. She’s not my child, but I love her. You may not love her, but she is your child." I confessed, my voice shaky and breathless. "Please, I beg you, take her to safety.” I muttered intently, praying to God that he wouldn't leave her alone, that he would learn to love this beautiful, wonderful child -- _that he would become her guiding light._

I put the phone down, feeling a great sense of relief that the burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I wasn't a liar anymore. I'd just told Logan the whole truth.

I went over to Laura and carefully took the raincoat off her. She'd quite literally followed my instructions and the heavy garment was making her sweat. She rolled over and pulled me towards her in a silent embrace. "Go back to sleep, _mi amor_ " I whispered in her ear, before kissing her head. She looked much more comfortable now, though it was too bad I couldn't take her shoes off as well.

I went to sit on my side of the bed and attached the new video to my mini documentary, then put the phone on the nightstand. I wanted to hold my girl one last time, but my arm was hurting, so I just let my head hit the pillow and closed my eyes, not sure if they were going to open once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Carry You Home", James Blunt.


	14. Heaven

****"Now and then when I see her face**   
**She takes me away to that special place..."**

It was a strange dream because I had never been there. Light from a coal fire spilled across the floor; the rest of the room was in semidarkness. I was in a log cabin. For the moment I did not want to move. I was an intruder, this place both concerned and excluded me. I thought I saw the white of a nightgown, but all I could see clearly was a woman's face by the candle she held out before her. She looked eerily familiar. _I'd seen her before_. Intelligence shone from her eyes, her manner was calm, she seemed extremely observant. The expression of sorrow showing on her beautiful face made me hold my breath. She looked towards me, but she could not see me. There was nothing to suggest she had registered my presence in any way at all, she was staring out the window, looking through me at the thick pine trees across the field. My legs weakened and a chill spread downwards through my stomach as the young, mysterious woman opened her mouth to speak. 

_"I want her back"_ she whispered. Her voice was melodious and grave. _"I want her brought back now"_

_"Wake up"_

_"Please, wake up"_

_"Gabriela, wake up!"_

_“¡Gabriela! Gabriela!”_ A terrified voice echoed through the motel room. _“¡Despierta!”_ Someone was shaking me, I was awake, but my eyelids were still too heavy. “Wake up!”

I tried very, very hard to open my eyes but they wouldn't. I tried again, struggling to focus on reality. The woman from my dream was leaning over me. No. It wasn't a woman, it was a little girl - _-a scared little girl._

 _“¡Laura!”_ I gasped, finally letting the dream go, my mind suddenly alert. I moved to sit up but it was impossible. I was too dizzy, my body too stiff, my arm too numb. _“¿Qué pasa?”_ I asked, squeezing my eyes tightly shut for a moment. “What is it?”

“ _La señora enojona acaba de gritar_ ” she said, gesturing to the window. There was impatience and fear in her voice.

“What? The owner was screaming? Why?” I mumbled. But before Laura could respond, the sound of gunshots broke the silence. We heard a horrible scream coming from one of the rooms. It sounded as if someone was breaking down the doors.

_They were here… It was happening._

Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as the realization of danger quickly sank in. I shot upward, kicking off the blankets, before grabbing my phone from the nightstand.

 **PLEASE HURRY** **_\--Gabriela_**

"Gabriela--" Laura began, watching my expression with alarm, but I immediately cut her off.

"Give me a moment" I mumbled, looking around the room, clutching the phone tightly. The next second I was picking up Laura's backpack and raincoat from the floor and pulling her towards me. "Here, put them on, baby" I said in a low, anxious voice as I desperately helped her into her coat.

“ _¡Vámonos, vámonos!”_ Laura was crying worriedly, yanking at my hand.

I didn't move. I couldn’t go with her. I was too weak to run away or even hide. Besides, if they held me hostage, Laura would climb into that Hummer to save my life. She had to leave NOW. 

“ _No, amor_." I said firmly, holding her at arms lenght and looking into her eyes. "You'll have to leave without me. Go into the bathroom and get out through the small window. Hide on the roof and wait for your dad."

"No--" 

"Listen to me!" I raised my voice. "If they’re still here when Logan arrives, help him fight them; if they’re gone and you feel like you won’t be able to talk to him, just stow away in the trunk of his limo. Don’t let your father leave without you, Laura. Don't leave his side until you're safe in Eden. You need him. Stay with him no matter what.” I urged.

At this, Laura shook her head and wrapped her arms around my waist, burying her face in my chest to muffle her cries.

“ _Gabriela…no, ven conmigo._ _Por favor, por favor, por favor"_ she muttered over and over again, holding me tightly. The plea in her voice prodded at something deep inside me. I always tried to teach her manners, tried to teach her to be respectful. I’d told her countless times that saying _please_ makes people more likely to give us what we want, and right now I couldn't give her what she wanted, no matter how many times she repeated the word.

“ _No llores, mi amor, no llores...”_ I muttered, kissing her forehead as I gently pushed her from me. "...I will never leave you" It was the truth. I believed it with all my heart.

A wave of terror once more enveloped me as I heard the sound of glass shattering in one of the rooms. The muffled sounds of their voices -- _his voice_ \-- seemed to be coming from somewhere near my car. 

“Go, now!" I urged Laura. "Don’t come back, no matter what you hear or see! Promise me that you won’t enter this room ever again! Ever!"

“ _Yo…es que…_ " Laura hesitated, her lip trembling. "I'll fight them! I'll kill them!" she said angrily, clenching her fists, ready to extend her claws. "I'll protect you! I'll protect you!" she cried repeatedly as tears rolled down her cheeks.

I grabbed her wrists a bit too roughly, and held her hands at bay, shaking my head. "No, you won't! You will hide and save yourself! Promise me!"

The heavy thumb of footsteps outside the room interrumpted our conversation momentarily.

“Promise me!” I insisted, shaking her, sounding a bit like Donald Pierce when he’d forced her to kill his hitman that day in the training rooms. Laura didn't even flinch as I shouted the words in her face, she was too broken, too devastated to care. "Promise me, baby. Please, promise me. Please" I begged desperately, vehemently, as I burst into tears.

Laura hesitated for a moment, watching my face, then she finally gave me a little nod.

“ _Te lo prometo_ ” she mumbled, her voice breaking a bit. My arms immediately fastened round the girl. I just wanted to hold her one last time. I kissed her head, her cheeks, her eyelids, as I breathed in her sweet, babyish scent.

“ _Te amo, Laura._ Te amo. Go now, _hija_ …” I whispered through a smile as I kissed her hand. Laura ran towards the bathroom, stopping at the door to smile back at me.

‘ _I love you too’_ she mouthed, her eyes glistening with tears, and then, just like that, the child that gave my life meaning for nearly ten years was gone. It was strange. I did not see her move away. She simply faded into nothing, like she'd never been real. Now I turned again to the phone, it was vibrating.

**ON MY WAY _\--Logan_**

I was quickly pecking out a reply when I heard the door being forced open. I couldn't hit the send button, all I could do was hide the phone in the broken nightstand and turn around. Donald Pierce's dimly lit face was only a couple of feet away from me. I found myself frozen in complete terror as I noticed the gun he was holding.

 _“Hola, Gabriela_ ” He said pleasantly through a smirk. “It’s been so long. Did ya' miss me?” 

I didn’t answer. I had nothing to say, instead, I simply sat on the edge of the bed and stared at him. It was then that I realized he wasn't alone, two of his hitmen were guarding the door. I felt blood rolling down my arm, but I was too stunned to feel the pain.

“Where is she?” he asked, examining the messy room. I ignored him, taking in his appearance. Despite his natural beauty he looked fatigued and older. I smiled to myself, we were giving him a hard time and pretty soon he wouldn't be able to keep up.

"What's so funny?" Pierce spat, before stepping back and turning his head to one of his men. At this, the hitman stalked into the room and grabbed my arm, then threw me into a chair. The bitter pain once again engulfed me, but I didn't make a sound.

“I never knew her muteness was contagious” Pierce said in a quiet voice, towering over me. He paused a beat, and then added. “Listen, I’ve had a hard week. Just tell me where the brat is.” 

I stared at him for yet another, prolongued silence. Meanwhile, his hitmen were scurrying around the room, looking for Laura.

"Tell me!" he suddenly shouted, grasping my arm with his robotic hand and squeezing it. "Where's the _fucking_ brat?"

This time I couldn't hold back a scream of agony, not only was Pierce pressing the wound, he was also breaking my arm. My eyes widened in terror, I shouldn't have screamed. If Laura came to my aid we would both die.

 _Don’t come to me, Laura…stay hidden, please…stay on the roof..._ I mentally murmured as Pierce's smile returned to his face. 

“There it is! That sweet voice of yours" he muttered casually, as he began to circle, watching the play of emotion across my face. "Listen, _nurse Gabriela_ , I know you stole her. That stupid coach told us you went looking for her to the training rooms, _only her_. That’s cruel, ye know? You could have saved many kids, but you chose to save your favorite. The rest can go to hell, right?”

This is exactly why the children feared him so much --the mental torture, the bullying. I was feeling sick, more pain was coming. He was standing in front of me, arms folded, his eyes burning with exasperation despite his sarcasm and mocking smiles.

“The girl isn’t here, Sir.” One of his hitmen said, walking out of the bathroom.

“Where is she Gabriela?” Pierce demanded, his lips curling in distaste as he moved once more to squeeze my arm. “Is she on her own?” he tried again, squeezing harder. I found myself staring into his mad, unseeing eyes. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I needed him to kill me now.

“Is she with her _daddy_?” he hissed, his voice stronger. The question took me off guard. I didn't answer, but it took him less than a second to read what was in my face. “Kids aren’t very discreet, you see? My Spanish was good enough to understand their chatter about X-23 having a father, a father featured in a comic book, a father called _Logan_. Ye gave them some X-Men comics, uh? We found some in your apartment."

The triumphant note in his voice made my flesh crawl. He would never leave Laura alone. I looked to the ceiling for answers, not sure what to do next. My girl was keeping her promise, but I knew she was listening, and it wouldn't be long before remorse and fear took hold of her and she came down to help me. I had to end this now. 

"He came and took her, right?" Pierce hissed, staring at me bitterly, his hand tightening around my arm. “RIGHT?!!”

Gathering all my remaning strenght I drew breath and spat in his face. The two hitmen in the room turned for his reaction. I simply waited in silence.

“Useless bitch!”

The force of the gun's bullets tore into the soft flesh of my body. I reached up toward my chest, grasping at the new wounds. The three men continued to stare at me until my hands slowly fell away from my chest, then quietly walked back to their vehicle and drove away from the scene. They had completed their sinister job all too well this morning.

I felt life leaving me slowly. Time was dissolving, holding my sight forever on all the undefined shapes inside this depressing motel room. I tried to move my eyes, lift them against the weight of time, change the final picture. Something was happening inside my head. It was painful. Thoughts and images were arriving there without me having to think them. I was running memories and daydreams, what was and what might have been.

_....A scared little girl in a red raincoat lying face down on a dirty roof, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes tightly shut..._

_...Promise me. Promise me..._

_...The baby, the dark-haired baby girl that frowns. Crib number 5. She's cute. I like her. What's her name? Ah, Laura..._

_...A white room. A white corridor. It never ends. It's cold. It's gloomy. There are children crying. All they do is cry. I hate this..._

_...That's what you're here for. To make it all better..._

_...The same girl, she's running up to me. She's not scared anymore, she never was. Her eyes are not hostile. She's never been inside a lab. Her blue school uniform is stained with chocolate, her perfect ponytail bobbing against the nape of her neck. She's tanned from sunny days at the park, her park.The trees branch over the path to form a canopy through which the afternoon sun casts yellow shapes onto the green grass. The sounds I hear are mostly dogs barking and kids playing. One word seems to repeat itself as she takes my hand and leads me towards the playground..._

_...Home..._

_...The baby, she likes it when I sing that song. Maybe I shouldn't, it's too personal. Mothers sing it to their daughters and one day I will have my own. But she stops crying when I sing. She smiles at me. Oh, well..._

_"...and at times I hear a divine echo_

_that wrapped up in the breeze_

_feels as if it said:_

_'Yes, I love you so,_

_so much, so much, so much,_

_as much as in those days,_

_forever, until death."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Sweet Child O' Mine", Guns N' Roses.  
> +++++++++++++++++++  
> If you liked this story, don't forget to check it out from Laura's mother's POV. Thanks for reading :)


End file.
